Victory Never Tasted So Bitter
by CharmedQuill
Summary: AU (Post-War Political). Two and a half years on, Magical Britain is still recovering from the second war. Families are still broken. The Ministry of Magic is still struggling to reverse the changes of the Voldemort-controlled Ministry. Now, Harry and Sirius return, determined to make sure that everything they fought for, meant something.
1. Chapter 1

**6.42pm, 19th December 2000**

 _ **Level Nine, Ministry of Magic, London**_

'The word's come down from the Director—you have authorisation for deadly force,' said the pale, sweaty aide, anxiously twisting his bony fingers under the scrutiny bearing down on him.

'Acknowledged.' Gawain Robards—Head of the Auror Office—turned away, already looking to the mixed squad of Aurors and Hit Wizards and Witches under his command, a heavy scowl set on his face. A veteran of two wars against Voldemort, Robards was a broad man, with a hard jaw and a shaved head, only a trio of ragged scars marring his face, running from underneath his right eye to his jawline. Raising his voice, he said, 'Roger Egelbert may have been one of us, but that just makes his betrayal all the greater. If you can stop him without killing him, then do it; if there is risk however, just take him out. He's already shown he's comfortable with killing. Do not underestimate him.' Surveying his men and women, he added in a grim voice, 'We have no idea what's down here and we won't find out—everything is dangerous—that's all you need to know.'

His wand in hand, Robards lead them to the end of the black tiled corridor, and placed his hand on the slightly ajar black door. Nodding to the squad—wands at the ready—following him, he pushed wide, shield charm on his lips and eyes darting to and fro, taking in the dark space beyond.

* * *

 **5.49pm, 19th December 2000**

 ** _Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Ministry of Magic, London_**

With an exhausted sigh, Roger Egelbert, cramped in his small, square cubicle, signed the last form to be filed for today—numbering in at 351. The parchment whisked away, a charm sending it into the archives to join the others. Since his release from Azkaban, he'd been relegated to a desk job in his former department. Three years later, his position had not changed, even after he had recovered fully from the effects of the dementors. Formerly a senior Auror, Roger had the misfortune of "dirty" blood—the muggleborns involved in the Auror Office were the first to be targeted by the laws passed by the late Minister Thicknesse.

'Oi, Egelbert we got a jam—go down there and fix it will ya,' shouts his supervisor, an obnoxious wizard by the name of Derek McConickey, his pinched, sallow face at odds with his garish orange beard and chubby midriff.

Roger clambered to his feet wearily. Sometimes, the enchantments went awry from exposure to the other interwoven magic around the ministry; or often, they had simply run out of space in that section of the archives, requiring him to increase the space expansion charms. Usually, Roger enjoyed the visit to the archives—they were a much-needed break from the monotony of paperwork. Right now, however, Roger wanted to get out of the Ministry and get away from everything. Since his release, Christmas had become his most hated time of the year.

Tucking the files under his arm, Roger set off, nodding to the people heading the other way, lucky enough to knock off on time. Pacing down the hall, Roger entered the archives—row upon row of wooden filing cabinets filled to the brim with paperwork dating back to the inception of the Ministry in 1707. The smell of dry, musty paper hung in the air and the further you travelled back into the rows, the more thickly each cabinet was coated in dust. Cleaning out the archives would be a momentous job, one that the Ministry would be horrified to contemplate. Paperwork was sacred here and the possibility of damaging or misplacing paperwork several hundred years old was considered too much of a risk.

Roger meandered his way through the rows looking for the correct one— _Row 594… Row 595… what was I looking for again? Ah, here it is, Row 597_ , he thought, turning into one of the newer rows, constructed only a few years ago. A cabinet, papers bristling at the edges of the drawers, stood there shuddering under the strain.

Taking out his wand, he attempted to start casting the normal charms that he used to find the problem. As he started the first spell however, the cabinet heaved, a great burst of air mixed with paper and dust flying from the drawers and swirling around Roger. _This is bloody rubbish_ , Roger thought, looking at the mess of papers that surrounded him. Sighing, he bent over to start organising them again, but in doing so, a name caught his eye. His hands sweaty and his mouth dry, Roger picked up the piece of paper and started to read.

* * *

 **9.32pm, 19th December 2000**

 ** _Number 12 Grimmauld Place, London_**

Harry stumbled from the fireplace, green light washing over the dusty kitchen, mould encrusting every surface. His lips curled, Harry looked over the room in disgust, brushing the ash from his clothes. Pulling his trunk behind him, he moved out of the way just in time as Sirius spun through after him. Wobbling, Sirius straightened himself, mirroring Harry as he took in the room.

'Hasn't changed a bit,' Sirius said, eyeing the filthy wooden table. 'The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black.'

'I thought you ordered Kreacher to clean it up last time we were here,' Harry said, bewildered, moving around the kitchen, poking the mould with his wand.

'If he was mad then, he's probably madder now,' Sirius replied, taking his own wand out and attempting a few cleaning spells, 'who knows what that portrait has been telling him.'

Pointing his wand at the fireplace, Sirius lit a small fire, attempting to drive away some of the gloom from the house. The flickering light revealed grimy stone walls, crumbling wooden patterns decorating the mantel, and pots and plates sitting on shelves—which, at this point, may be entirely unnecessary because of the stiches of cobwebs holding them to the wall. With a sigh, Harry slowly began to clean the kitchen, having to cast several cleaning spells to cut through the layers of dirt.

'Just cleaning this kitchen is going to take us a while,' Harry said, his wand cutting through the air.

'Maybe we can get some help, Sirius groused, 'or even better, we could buy another house.'

Harry paused in his spellwork, peering concernedly at Sirius before replying, 'You know we don't have to stay here Sirius, we can figure something else out.'

Sirius sighed, his face taut, 'No don't worry about it, I'll get used to it. It'll take us years to get the same sort of protections on another house.'

'Hey, we can protect ourselves well enough,' Harry said, feeling worried for Sirius, 'I understand if this place is too much for you, I was the same with you know…'

Sirius watched as Harry trailed off, jaw clenched tightly. Walking over, Sirius clasped Harry's shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze. 'I know Harry, I know, but you were right,' Sirius said, gesturing to the walls, 'not many Blacks have been worth much of a damn, but maybe I can change that, set what's left of them on a better path.'

'Well, look at you, all grown up,' Harry grinned, Sirius dodging his attempt to ruffle his hair.

'Oi shut it you, have some respect for your elders,' Sirius said snootily, the strained atmosphere vanishing as they smiled at each other. Sirius sighed, returning his attention to the kitchen. 'What the hell has that bloody house elf been doing?'

Suddenly, a crack lanced through the kitchen. Harry spun around, pointing his wand Kreacher, a house elf with ears like bat wings, creases dividing its drooping face, and fuzzy, grey hair sprouting all over like a mossy boulder. His pinched face glared at the two intruders, a stream of insults aimed at Harry and Sirius leaving his mouth.

'It's the filthy half-breeds back again, come to torment my poor mistress, Kreacher was hoping they died, yes, but they're back again, oh my poor mistress.'

'Speak of the devil,' Sirius muttered, returning the elf's glare with equal hate.

Harry peered concernedly at the yellowed eyes and the saggy skin, thrown into sharp relief by the flickering firelight. 'He doesn't look too good Sirius,' Harry said, shifting closer to the waxy elf, his wand still at the ready.

Sirius snorted, eyeing the house elf with distaste. 'Course he isn't, I'm surprised he hasn't died from living in this filth.' Sirius' patience with the elf evidently ran out, as Kreacher's whispered imprecations were growing louder in volume. 'Shut up Kreacher!' Sirius yelled. The elf's mouth snapped shut, his eyes bulging hatefully. 'Now, tell me, what rooms are clean?'

His jaw straining, Kreacher haltingly told Sirius that only Regulus' room was clean. 'But you mustn't enter, its Master Regulus' room, not fit for filthy brats,' he wailed.

'Right, go to your room or cupboard whatever and leave us alone, we're moving in, Kreacher,' said Sirius, eager to be rid of him.

Kreacher snapped his fingers and disappeared from the room, his last insult hanging in the air.

'Well, that was cheerful,' Harry said. Sirius snorted in reply, moving to clean the pantry cupboards, mercifully clear of rotting food. 'We can't just keep him locked up in the house, we'll have to do something with him,' Harry said, not entirely sure what the elf was capable of.

'I don't care what he does but you deal with him,' Sirius said, a ferocious scowl on his face. 'If there's one thing I hated more about this house than my mother, it's that bloody elf.'

Harry feeling slightly lost, nodded anyway. _Maybe he could find something—that was not Regulus—to encourage Kreacher to have an interest in,_ Harry thought without much hope, _or maybe actual human contact, not mad portraits, will bring out his good… his slightly less crazy side._

Putting the matter aside for now, Harry devoted himself to the cleaning, letting his mind wander. It had been nearly three years since he and Sirius had been on British soil. Leaving soon after his victory over Voldemort, they had gone travelling around the world. They alternated between using the skills learnt from their years of training to work as freelance mercenaries, helping various ministries with their unusual problems; and living to excess—fast broomsticks and fast women. Sirius had proclaimed many times, usually at the bottom of a bottle, that they both had years of their lives to make up for—his years of early adulthood spent cleaning diapers, listening to tantrums, and worst of all, teaching, usually said with a theatrical shudder. Harry, on the other hand, had his childhood and teenage years to make up for, having spent his life secluded with Sirius and Remus, intermittent visits by Albus Dumbledore and other members of the Order of the Phoenix his only human contact for years. _It's been a good few years,_ Harry thought, the kitchen beginning to look decently clean. But he wanted more. Their life, while fun, had been going nowhere. No home, no family or friends, and no future beyond the next assignment. _Now that we're home again, I hope that will change,_ Harry thought as he flourished his wand one more time, leaving the table shining.

Harry slumped over the now clean table, the pine wood table gleaming in the light of the bowl-like lamps floating above them. Sirius sat across from him, face rigid, tension thick in his frame, his eyes drifting around the kitchen.

Harry, wanting Sirius to stop thinking about his memories of his childhood home, asked, 'Should we go and visit Tonks and Teddy tomorrow?' Harry was beginning to feel rather nervous about the prospect. They had not seen Tonks and Teddy since they had left Britain. There had been hundreds of letters exchanged, Tonks filling hers with stories of Teddy and her mother Andromeda, Sirius and Harry writing their adventures and loading the owls with expensive presents from around the world for Teddy. Harry had been named as his godfather, something that had surprised Harry when he'd first been told, believing Sirius to be the likely recipient. Afterwards, he had guessed that Remus and Tonks were hoping to lift his spirits and show their confidence in him in preparation for the final battle; rather than name Sirius who would be there no matter what, just like Remus had been there for Harry. The last time they had seen Teddy, he'd been barely more than a drooling, babbling blob. Now, he'd be walking and talking, and from Tonks' letters, a right little terror.

'Yeah, I guess we should,' Sirius said, looking as nervous as Harry felt. 'Don't need to give Tonks more reasons to scream at us.'

'You think she'll be angry,' Harry said, his throat getting a little dry, 'She was the one who told us we should get away.'

'I wouldn't put it past her, she never said for two and a half years,' Sirius replied morosely, before his face lit up. 'Remember when she burst into our safehouse, screaming for Remus to come back or she'd drag him back by his ears.'

Harry's lips twitched, casting his own mind back. 'She was pregnant then,' he pointed out, 'but yes, I remember. Her hair turned so red I was worried she was actually on fire.'

They chuckled together, the reminiscing relaxing them. Loss had dominated both of their lives; to cope with it, they had formed a habit to remember together, finding solace in their shared memories. Since Harry was old enough to talk, they had spent many evenings—Harry, Sirius, and Remus—gathered around a table, laughing and crying for hours, telling stories until the sun begins its ascension and they drop off sleep bent over in their chairs.

Sirius sobered after a moment, gazing at Harry with fondness bursting in his expression. 'It's good to be home.'

And Harry, like a firewhisky shot, felt warm happiness bubble up in him, replied, 'Yeah it really is.'

* * *

 **11.38am, 20th December 2000**

 ** _Willbury Lane, Chipping Camden, Gloucestershire_**

Sirius and Harry trudged up the lane, dunes of snow to either side of them. Powdered white oaks lined the drive, bereft of leaves. Ahead of them, rising out of the brown and white landscape, was a two-story house as colourful as Tonks herself. Bricks of many different colours, and adhering to no pattern apparent to Harry, decorated the country home. On the side, a purple chimney puffed a lazy wisp of smoke over the snow-covered roof.

'Are they… flashing,' said Harry in befuddlement, pointing to some of the bricks around the light blue door, adorned only with an explosive Christmas wreath.

'Merlin's beard, she's gone wonky,' Sirius said, spying the flashing bricks for himself.

'Sirius Black!'

Harry and Sirius both flinched as the door burst open. In the doorway stood Nymphadora Tonks, arms crossed, purple hair falling to her waist, and wearing a wide grin. Opening her arms up, she gestured them over. 'Get over here and give me a hug, cousin.'

Beaming, Sirius bounced over, gathering her up in a crushing hug. 'Tonksy! It's been far too long.'

'Well, whose fault is that? And put me down, you mangy dog,' Tonks laughed, swatting Sirius over the back of the head.

He relented, setting her stumbling on the doorstep. Harry watched on, a grin stretching his face, ridiculously happy to see Tonks. During the war, their contact had been limited, but after years of her letters and dozens of stories told by Sirius, he felt closer to her than anyone other than Sirius. Tonks straightened, still laughing, her cheeks flushed from the cold and Sirius' antics before eyeing Harry, her lips curled mischievously.

'And just who is this dashing young man,' Tonks said dramatically, holding her hand to her heart. 'Surely not little Harry Potter… no, no, he's skinnier than a bowtruckle and sadder than a dementor, its surely not him.'

Mock scowling, Harry grabbed her, swinging her around amidst her and Sirius guffaws. 'You're a riot, you are,' he grumbled half-heartedly, too elated to be sore with them. Setting her down, Tonks just smiled at them both, eyes bright.

'Wotcher,' she said, setting off their laughter again as she ushered them into the house. The hall was cluttered; boots, big and tiny, sat crowding the doorway and a mess of coats and toys lay strewn on the carpeted floor. On the walls, straight pictures waved at them, full of cheery faces, while the crooked pictures desperately waved for their attention, straining to remain upright in their frames. Following Tonks down the hall, they came into a warm kitchen, windows looking out onto a backyard filled with naked trees and clumps of snow.

'Just take a seat here,' Tonks said, pointing to a small wooden table, 'And I'll make us some tea.'

'Thanks Tonks,' Harry said, echoed by Sirius, already feeling at home amongst the cluttered home.

'You were lucky you found anyone here,' she said as she busied herself at the stove, 'Mum has Teddy out shopping today, and normally I would have gone with them, but Teddy was absolutely adamant to find me a present by himself.'

Wand waving, Tonks walked over to the table, the cracked ceramic teapot and three mugs following closely behind. 'There you two go, serve yourselves,' she said, still unable to keep the smile off her face.

After pouring himself one, Sirius took a cautious sip, his eyes going wide at the taste. 'It wasn't too long ago when you couldn't have made toast without burning it and would have spilled every last drop bringing the tea over here,' Sirius ribbed, 'I think you've gone and turned yourself into a proper mum, Tonksy.'

'Oi, shut up Black, you weren't any better,' Tonks replied, her tone teasing. 'I'm wagering the reason young Potter over here isn't skin and bones anymore is because he got out of your house and away from your cooking.'

For hours, the trio talked, sharing stories and teasing each other, and for Harry, it was bliss, like he was back before the war, before Remus was lost. Remus had left a gaping hole when he died, turning their misfit family of three into two. Tonks may have been very different from Remus, but she understood. And that was enough. The light filtering through the clouds was beginning to dim before Tonks decided to call an end to the day.

She gazed at them both, eyes solemn and mouth creased, and for the first time that day, the mood turned less than joyful. 'I want you two to be a part of Teddy's life… and I need to know know…is it…are you back for good?' Tonks leaned forward hopefully at the question.

'Yes, this is… well, we've decided we need to start moving forward,' Harry rushed, looking to Sirius for his agreement.

'Harry is right… we've decided it's time to come back to the real world.'

Tonks collapsed back in her chair, eyes shut tightly. 'That's good to hear,' Tonks breathed, 'That's really good to hear.'

Shaking her head, surreptitiously wiping her eyes as Sirius and Harry did the same, she looked at them again, looking much happier. 'Well, how about you come back tomorrow so you can meet him. He'll be a grumpy little bloke after shopping for so long and he's been waiting to meet his "uncles" for a long time,' Tonks said.

'That sounds great,' Sirius said, beaming, while Harry settled for nodding, scared that his voice might break should he speak.

As they stood, Tonks stood with them, walking them to the door. Outside, the bricks shone brightly in the darkening evening, flashing colours playing on the snow. As Sirius hugged her in farewell, he remarked, 'And maybe we can help you fix your decorations as well,' pointing cheekily to the flashing bricks.

Tonks gasped, eyes widening at the insult. 'Don't you dare Sirius Black,' Tonks rebuked, wagging a finger in his face. 'Teddy and I spent an entire day making our house beautiful. You and Mum can go decorate Grimmauld Place and have your Christmas there.' Sirius recoiled, hands held high in surrender, backing away quickly from Tonks while he chuckled to himself.

Laughing, Harry leaned in to hug her goodbye. Tonks' hands wrapped firmly around his back, pulling him in close so she could tiptoe and whisper in his ear. For him alone to hear, Tonks said, 'I'm glad you're here, Harry, and… well… that you're so happy. I hope that Teddy, and Andi, and I can become family to you, the same way Sirius and Remus are.'

Choked up, Harry only squeezed her tighter before letting go and smiling brightly in response. 'Thanks Tonks,' Harry replied, feeling like he was sitting next to a blazing fire, and not out in the cold. Waving goodbye with a brilliant smile, Tonks disappeared back into the house, and with two cracks, one after the other, Harry and Sirius disappeared from the lane.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

 **21** **st** **December 2000**

 _ **Daily Prophet, Morning Edition**_

 _Department of Mysteries Mayhem!_

 _On the 19_ _th_ _of December, at around 6.30 in the evening, Department of Magical Law Enforcement employee, Roger Egelbert, went on a rampage through the Department of Mysteries, only ending when his life was lost in an extended skirmish with officers from the Magical Law Enforcement Department._

 _During his rampage, Egelbert killed three Unspeakables and injured five more. Two Aurors were also injured in the ensuing battle, but both only sustained minor injuries._

 _The Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Amanda Blishwick, stated, 'These actions were the actions of one man and one man only. At this time, we have not confirmed his motive, but it was evident that the perpetrator was mentally unsound.'_

 _Egelbert, a 39-year-old muggleborn, was imprisoned in Azkaban from August 1997 to March 1998. After release, he only had minor duties in the Department due to his condition._

 _In an anonymous statement to the Prophet, an Auror stated, 'He was never the same when he came back—didn't talk, didn't socialise—just sat at his desk doing paperwork.'_

 _This incident has led to increased concerns about the health of those imprisoned in Azkaban. Lucius Malfoy, a respected Wizengamot member and survivor of the second war, believes that employees of the Ministry who faced Azkaban need to face stringent testing before they are allowed back into society._

' _As a survivor myself, I know the impact that Azkaban can have on a witch or wizard,' Malfoy stated in an interview with him yesterday._

' _I immediately sought treatment from respected Healers, but not everyone has the same respect for our magical community—I hope that the Minister is working quickly to fix this problem,' stated Malfoy, who has recently criticized the Minister of Magic for his inaction in the face of the magical community's decline._

 _Was this an isolated incident? Or is this the start of a new reign of terror? Time will tell, but I know I can rest easy with our country in the hands of upstanding wizards and witches like Amanda Blishwick and Lucius Malfoy._

 _To read the entire interview with Lucius Malfoy, turn to page 5.  
_

* * *

 **9.24am, 21** **st** **December 2000**

 _ **Number 12 Grimmauld Place, London**_

Harry felt his tea threaten to reappear, his eyes darting over the front-page article on the Daily Prophet. Hands shaking in disgust, anger, fear—he wasn't quite sure—he laid the paper back down, a photo of Director Blishwick gracing the cover, a grim expression on her weathered face.

He wasn't sure what magical Britain would be like when they came back—he hadn't expected perfect but he had thought it would be better at least. But now… Lucius Malfoy still had his slimy hands in people's pockets, people were still dying. Harry grabbed fistfuls of his hair, his body simmering with rage.

 _What did Albus tell me?_ Harry remembered a weary Albus Dumbledore, his voice grave but soothing, counselling Harry when he was an angry and frightened teenager. _When the time comes, they will take up wands for us, sing their spells and lay their lives on the line. But before that, they do not want or know how to fight. So, they look to us. It is our burden to fight, to work our hardest every day for the good of all. Fate chose us—our only choice is whether we will answer her call._

Harry breathed deeply, remembering those few scant occasions when Dumbledore let his guard down, his aged shoulders sagging and looking impossibly frail for a man who exuded power. Pressing his fingers to his eyelids, he felt a sense of hopelessness—was that his fate? To fight his whole life, Dark Lords and dark creatures in an endless procession until he finally passed the responsibility on to another, another person to fight their whole life in vain.

The gnawing feeling in his gut only grew. 'I don't want this,' Harry mumbled to himself, 'I never did.'

At this moment, the floo activated, Sirius stumbling in with wild eyes. Ashen faced, he slammed the Prophet down on the table. 'Have you seen this?' Sirius asked Harry, before noticing the newspaper laying in front of him. Not waiting for Harry's reply, he collapsed into a chair, his fists clenched.

Harry nodded, lifting the Prophet in response.

'Lucius bloody Malfoy,' Sirius raged, his voice growing dark. 'I should have just killed him when I had the chance.'

'We both had the chance,' Harry said, his own voice sounding faint to his ears. 'I didn't think that he'd escape Azkaban again.'

'Well who would!' Sirius nearly exploded, fingering his wand. 'I'll be having words with Shacklebolt, finding out what the fuck he did.'

'I don't think he lasted long at Minister,' Harry said, reading from the Prophet. 'Got the minister's statement about yesterday in here. Says that the Minister for the last two years has been Francis Selwyn.'

Sirius hesitated for a second, his eyes growing wide. 'Wasn't there a death eater named Selwyn? I'm pretty sure there was a death eater named Selwyn,' said Sirius, his voice getting slightly hysterical.

'It's not him,' Harry said, remembering the final battle. In an effort to obtain Hufflepuff's Cup from Gringotts, they had lured Bellatrix into a trap and with her their prisoner, had attempted to sneak into the bank under the guidance of Bill Weasley. Their plans had quickly fallen apart however, and while they had destroyed the Cup, they had also been engaged in a full-scale battle with Voldemort and his forces. Ultimately, they were the victors, but there had been many losses on both sides.

'That Selwyn died at Gringotts,' Harry continued, grimacing in remembrance. 'Some goblins got him I think. Not much was left.'

'Oh, that's right,' said Sirius, calming slightly. 'Still, he must have ties to him at least.'

Harry hesitated, carefully not looking at Sirius. 'I don't think we can say anything for certain without more information Sirius,' Harry said, before adding in a low voice 'I know people have said the same thing about you.'

Harry's words took all the wind out of Sirius as he slumped into his seat. Gathering the paper in his hands, Sirius lobbed it at the smouldering fire, his face showing his annoyance.

'We can ask Tonks about him… and everything else,' Harry said shortly, loathe to mar the day with more talk of the grim situation.

'We'll play it by ear I guess,' Sirius sighed, flipping open his pocket watch. 'I think I'll set up a meeting with the Order, or at least Minerva and Kingsley. Get everything on the table.' Sirius snapped his watch shut, clapping his hands and jumping to his feet.

'Enough for now, we've got a little marauder to corrupt,' Sirius said, as he bounded towards the front door. Laughing, Harry followed him, happy to leave the subject for now—but in the pit of his stomach, he could feel a heavy ball of apprehension growing.

* * *

 **9.59am, 21st December 2000**

 _ **Willbury Lane, Chipping Camden, Gloucestershire**_

Tonks met them at the door, coloured like a Christmas tree, chivvying them out of the cold. Harry could hear squeals of laughter echoing down the hall. Wiping his hands on his coat as he hung it from the stand, he nervously trailed Tonks and Sirius into the living room decorated with strings of red and green streamers.

He entered to find a clapping toddler, chubby and pink, Teddy's hair changing colour with the sofa as Andromeda laughingly used a colour change charm on it. Harry spent a moment studying Andromeda, who he had only seen at a distance during the week of funerals after the final battle. She mirrored Sirius—elegant lines but the aristocratic features abandoned in favour of laugh lines and kind smiles. Sirius had warned him that she had some resemblance to Bellatrix, but Harry found it easy to disregard the similarity in this loud room filled with bright laughter.

At the sight of them, Teddy stilled, his face gone wary. Harry rocked nervously under the scrutiny while Andromeda greeted Sirius enthusiastically—blood was apparently not the only thing they shared. After greeting Sirius, Andromeda faced Harry, the same smile—cheeky with a hint of mischief—that she shared with her daughter and Sirius adorning her face.

'Harry!' Andromeda hugged him tightly, squeezing Harry's breath from him. Drawing back, she patted his cheek lightly. 'It's been so long. You look just like your father.'

Harry's face burned and snickering could be heard behind him. 'I'm sorry, I can't quite remember when we met, Mrs Tonks,' he said.

Andromeda only smirked in reply, eyeing Sirius who paled under her gaze.

'It's just Andi, dear. And no wonder—I doubt Sirius would have told you. He'd been taking care of you for about a week before I got this absolutely desperate Floo call from Sirius asking me if I had any milk. And could I just bring it through while he watched the stove?' She laughed and Sirius squirmed where he was standing, attempting to ignore the story. 'Well, Sirius was always horribly stubborn about asking for help. I came through the Floo and his flat was a disaster—clothes and toys everywhere—he shoved you, screaming your little lungs out, into my hands and told me to just look after you while he stepped out for a minute.' She narrowed her eyes at Sirius, who was looking anywhere but her. 'I'm certain he went down to the pub.'

Harry snorted into his hand while Tonks giggled in the background, Teddy holding tightly to her leg.

Andromeda sighed before looking back at Harry, her eyes soft. 'But he came back—I spent more than a few days teaching him how to care for you in those early days before you went into hiding. And I'm certain he's done a very good job by the look of you now.'

Harry could feel his face grow hot again and desperately wished that this sort of treatment wasn't going to become the norm when reintroducing himself to Magical Britain. He certainly appreciated the sentiment, but he was a grown man—he didn't need to be cooed over.

'Leave poor Harry alone,' Tonks scolded, though she couldn't contain her smile. 'I've got a little man here to meet his uncles.'

Harry swallowed nervously, as Tonks walked forward leading an uncertain Teddy by the hand. When she reached him, Tonks crouched down, smiling gently at Teddy.

'This is your Uncle Harry, Teddy,' Tonks said, pushing him towards Harry, holding up a small hand for Harry to shake. Harry smiled shakily, his mouth too dry to form words.

Teddy peered at him uncertainly, but seemed to come to a decision. He leaned forward as if to whisper. 'Did you really fight a dragon?' he said, his little eyes growing wide.

'Teddy!'

Tonks' scolding startled Teddy into pouting but Harry laughed in reply. 'I don't know if I fought a dragon Teddy, I was too busy running from it.'

'Wow,' Teddy said, his face struck by awe. Harry found he didn't mind it too much coming from Teddy. In fact, he thought he might rather like it.

Sirius laughed, sweeping up a squealing Teddy. 'And I, am your greatest uncle, Sirius Black,' Sirius said, tweaking the boy's nose. 'I've fought ten dragons by myself—and won! Saved young Harry here from roasting more than a few times.'

If possible, Teddy's eyes grew even wider. 'Really?' he asked excitedly, squirming in Sirius' grip.

'Your Uncle Sirius is a liar, Teddy—don't listen to a word he says,' Tonks said, plucking him from Sirius' arms and setting him jumping on the floor. 'Why don't you show your uncles all your toys? I'm sure they'd be happy to play with you,' Tonks finished, a wicked smile on her face.

Harry found himself and Sirius being tugged along by Teddy, smiling down at the bouncing little boy as he beamed at his two new uncles.

'Have fun you lot,' Tonks called, ushering Andi towards the kitchen. 'Oh, and make sure you clean them all up once you're done.'

'They're in here,' Teddy said pointing at a cupboard, waiting for Sirius and Harry to open it. Harry shrugged at Sirius and pulled it open—immediately, an avalanche of toys fell forth, causing Harry to jump back from the door, watching in disbelief as the closet dumped toys all over the room.

'Is this everything we ever sent?' Harry said, eyeing fanged frisbees—with real dragon teeth—from Romania snap at the air, miniature mummies from Egypt flailing their weak limbs, toy broomsticks ranging from the ridiculous—an eyewatering green and gold one from Australia—to the finest—a sleek Mini-Firebolt, that Harry had owl-ordered the day it was released; stooping, Harry snatched up a golden snitch fluttering around his ankles. Sirius had gotten a bit overzealous and sent Teddy a whole quidditch set.

'Mum took my bludgers away because they broke the windows,' Teddy pouted, but was soon distracted. Out of the corner of Harry's eye, he saw Teddy lob something into the air.

'Catch!' Teddy shrieked.

Yelping, Harry and Sirius took cover, diving into the piles of toys while fanged frisbees spun through the air. _I didn't think buying Teddy so many presents would come back to bite me quite like this_ , Harry thought, dodging the projectiles to the sound of Sirius' swearing and Teddy's laughter, which mingled with what sounded suspiciously like the two older Tonks' snickering in the kitchen.

...

'How do you do it?' Sirius wailed, slumped in his chair at the kitchen table. 'I don't think I've ever been this tired.'

Harry laughed, weariness setting into his bones. Teddy had kept him and Sirius on the run for several hours, jumping from toy to toy with a seemingly boundless energy. Until he had crashed, the excitement finally run out. Andi had only just taken a weakly protesting Teddy for a nap now, the little boy's eyelids drooping as she carried him down the hall.

'You're an old man, Sirius,' Tonks laughed, 'I'm sure Harry was the same at his age.'

'Compared to Harry, Teddy's a monster,' Sirius complained.

'Do not… call him that,' Tonks said, her tone restrained but her face bleak. Harry straightened, feeling the merry mood drain away, his thoughts returning to the news brought by the Prophet that Teddy had managed to banish, if for only a little while.

Sirius blanched, before his countenance grew angry. Harry could see him grip the table tightly. Restraint, was a trait Sirius valued highly, taught to him through harsh lessons in his youth. At the moment, Harry could tell he was struggling not to leap to conclusions, but he too feared the worst.

'How bad is it Tonks?' Sirius asked tightly, lowly.

While Harry and Sirius had straightened, full of righteous anger, Tonks had sunk down, all emotion bleeding out of her until on sadness and tiredness remained.

'It's not… it's not that bad… not yet at least. The hate towards muggles and muggleborns seems to have largely vanished but only because no one wants to be equated with death eaters now. Werewolves or half-breeds on the other hand… well, they're easy targets aren't they. Greyback certainly left an impression on people,' Tonks finished in a scratchy voice.

Sirius cursed. 'Who?'

'It isn't just a few Sirius, its everybody, ministry officials, purebloods, muggleborns, they all want to blame someone. My baby is just an easy target.'

'What have they done?'

'To him? Not let their own children too close to him for a start. Mostly just muttering and looks. I've been pushed out though,' Tonks said.

'Pushed out?' asked Harry.

'The ministry doesn't have room for me in the field or in the office anymore. By the time I was ready to return, training the new recruits was all they would use me for.'

'What about Kingsley? What about the other order members working there?' Sirius said as he got up to pace the room.

'Not much he could do. He'd already gone back down to Senior Auror. The elections for the new minister were within six months of Kingsley's term.'

Sirius faltered, before resuming his furious pacing. Harry's mind wandered back to the morning Prophet. 'What about this Egelbert bloke?' Harry questioned, hoping to find something to go on.

If anything, Tonks got paler. 'He is… was… a good man… He was one of the first to be taken by the Muggleborn Registration Committee. The man I knew wouldn't have done what they said,' Tonks paused, her eyes shiny. 'He had a wife and two young boys—she was a muggle… we tried to take them into hiding but they were already missing. There was a struggle in their home but they stood no chance.'

'Azkaban as well?' Sirius growled.

'No… I don't think we ever found out what happened to them.'

* * *

 **8.36pm, 21** **st** **December 2000**

 _ **Number 12 Grimmauld Place, London**_

The dying fire cast dim shadows on the stone walls, flickering in and out of view. Harry sat, head resting on the table, a fifth of firewhisky in his hand. Across from him, Sirius fidgeted, running his finger around his glass. They had returned from Tonks' house, sober and depressed, when Sirius had decided he'd rather be drunk and depressed. What Tonks had told them had ruined what should have been a wonderful day. Ever since that conversation, Harry's brain had been buzzing; fear and anger running amok, half-formed enemies tumbling through his mind.

'It's fucked up.'

Harry raised his head, watching Sirius seethe.

'Albus died for them. Remus died for them. James and Lily died for them. And they don't give a bloody damn!' Sirius threw the glass at the fireplace, sizzling and shattering.

'They deserve better,' Sirius said, breathing heavily. 'Merlin, they deserve it.'

Harry watched him for a moment before opening his mouth, unsure of what to say next. He knew what he wanted, however. The draw, the need, to do something had been building up since he saw the Prophet this morning. If he were honest, it had been building up for far longer—mercenary work could never be the same as fighting for your family, for your home.

'So, we fight.' Harry's statement hung in the air between them. They both knew the costs of war. This would be no different.

'I don't think we can blast our way through this one, Harry,' Sirius sighed.

'Albus and Remus did teach me other things,' Harry said dryly. 'It wasn't all magic. The ins and outs of politics, how to use my fame, the history of magic, pureblood etiquette—we didn't know if I would need to navigate the press and the ministry during the war.'

'You want to fight them… without magic?'

'We'll need to use everything we have Sirius. They're certainly not going to fight fair. Merlin, we have to change centuries worth of prejudices and conflict. This won't be easy.'

Sirius eyed Harry for a moment before a wry grin curled his mouth. 'Guess I better brush up on those lessons my father insisted on teaching me,' he said with distaste.

'Lessons?' Harry asked, surprised by the change in subject.

'Etiquette, family obligations, Ministry and Wizengamot regulations. Horribly boring for a child like me,' Sirius said with a grin. 'I made sure Remus would teach you the same.'

'Wait… you suggested it? Why did you do that to me? And why didn't you suggest we fight if you already knew?

'Well, I had to make sure I remained your favourite somehow. I know Remus used to sneak you chocolate frogs by the way, the sneaky bugger. As for the other…' Sirius paused, his eyes boring into Harry's, bright pinpricks in the gloom. 'I've always called the shots. I figure it's time for you to take control, choose your own life.'

Struck, Harry paused, staring at Sirius. 'You never had a choice either.'

'I… am right where I want to be.'

'I don't think I can walk away.' asked Harry.

'Good, because as much as I'd like for you to be safe, I'd rather you be happy. And I don't think you can truly be happy unless you fight for it. Besides, might be fun to shake things up a bit,' Sirius grinned.

'We're doing this then.'

'Black and Potter.'

'Black and Potter.'


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

 **7.11pm, 23** **rd** **December 2000**

 _ **Number 12 Grimmauld Place, London**_

It had been years since Grimmauld Place had been this crowded and certainly many more since a friendly gathering had occurred. Harry welcomed the members of the Order, who—in response to their invitations for a small Christmas party—had converged on their home. Grimmauld was still dreary—Harry and Sirius had spent the afternoon conjuring tinsel and holly in an effort to spruce up the horrible décor. It at least covered some of the more gruesome items that they hadn't rid themselves of yet—the severed troll's leg was slightly more festive covered in magical fairy lights and the decapitated house elf heads had all been adorned with wreaths, despite Harry's protests that they were now more alarming.

Harry had been shaking hands, hugged alarmingly hard, and exclaimed over by a procession of Order members. He had fought with them on occasion, but had never truly met them beyond brief nods and strategy meetings; scattered moments as they hid, waiting for the battle to begin. Time had always been in short supply.

Harry couldn't help but feel uncomfortable—the presumed familiarity at times made him tense in shock. _Suck it up, Potter,_ Harry thought, _this is just a taste_. If all went to plan, he and Sirius would announce their return to Britain in the new year. Speculation of their whereabouts was already a daily story for the Prophet and it would only worsen once they ventured into society.

He admired Sirius' open nature more now, than ever. He slipped back into easy camaraderie, joking as if he was back amongst school friends, not a vigilante group that had been decimated through two wars. Harry would have to watch and learn how Sirius dealt with people—previously, Sirius had acted as a shield for Harry when interacting with the media and politicians in other countries.

'Harry!'

Harry caught Tonks as she stumbled into him, her flailing joints impacting his chest. _That's going to leave a mark. Or marks,_ Harry thought, wincing from the contact.

'Bloody hell Tonks,' Harry said, struggling to extract himself from the jumble of limbs.

'Oh, sorry Harry, I can be a bit of klutz.'

'Don't worry about it. Listen, thanks for bringing that food earlier. I don't think our party planning skills are up to scratch.'

'Don't thank me, thank Mum. As soon as she saw the invitation she started baking. She was certain Sirius would be hopeless. And we didn't know if Kreacher was going to be helping.'

'Well, she wasn't entirely wrong. And no, Kreacher's in confinement at the moment. Still as unpleasant as ever,' Harry said, grimacing at the reminder of the increasingly ill-tempered house elf.

'Oh.' Tonks peered around before leaning in to whisper conspiratorially, a wicked smile on her face. 'Well, I don't know why you invited us here then. If you can't change one house elf's mind, how are you going to change the country?'

'Shut it you,' Harry glowered at her but couldn't help his own smile breaking out in reply. 'Go in and catch up. I'm stuck on door duty,' Harry grumbled.

'Don't worry, I'll make sure to save you some treacle tart,' Tonks laughed, sliding past to the hall. 'Don't pretend you haven't been eyeing it all afternoon.'

'I nicked some earlier, just couldn't wait,' Harry replied, that warm feeling rising up within him again. Just then, the door slammed open, a mass of brown fur filling the doorway. Harry moved back to allow room for the guest to enter, his bulky frame filling the hall.

'Arry, good ta' see your,' a platter sized hand descended on Harry's back, driving the air from his lungs.

'You too, Hagrid.'

Hagrid stared down at him, his beetle black eyes crinkling. 'You look jus' like your dad, but yeh've got your- '

'My mother's eyes, I know,' Harry interrupted, having heard it from Hagrid once too many times.

Hagrid laughed, the booming rattling the decorations as his giant body jostled. 'I'll wager yeh've heard that a few times. Sorry 'Arry, it shouldn't keep surprisin' me.'

'Don't worry about it Hagrid, but I might need you to move in to the kitchen. Not everyone's arrived yet, and well…'

'Right, right, I'll get out the way. It's good to see you Harry.' Hagrid moved to the kitchen, his giant shoulders brushing the walls.

'Oh, hello.'

Harry turned to the new arrival and was struck by a wave of grief. Mrs Weasley stood in the doorway, alongside a scarred Bill Weasley. He had not seen her since the funerals, but she looked so much older than she had been just a few short years ago. There was no other word for it—she was frail—something Harry never could have pictured the kindly mother who had protected her family with such ferocity.

Mr Weasley had been the same, if slightly more understated in his strength. In the short time he had known the man, he had been impressed—to have dedicated his life towards the protection of muggles when many scarcely spared them a thought had earnt, from Harry, a measure of respect that few had reached.

With a dry mouth, Harry moved forward to greet them. 'Mrs Weasley, Bill, it's wonderful to see you again. I hope you're having a wonderful Christmas. And I hope we…uh…get to know each other a little better this time.'

Mrs Weasley smiled, a slow, sad smile. 'I think we can do better than that, Harry. It's Molly, please.'

Bill held out his hand to shake, the smile on his face no less friendly for the scars that marked it. 'Good to see you again, Harry.'

'How have you been? How… how's the family?'

He remembered a photo of nine cheerful redheads waving in front of a crooked house. Mr Weasley had shown him during one of the times they had been camped out—waiting for the Patronus that would signal their attack—and his stories of his family had reminded Harry of what they were fighting for. The photo had provided Harry a glimpse of what might have been, a big house, a big family, and the ache had hit him quite unexpectedly. His memories of parents were little more than that and the obvious love that Mr Weasley had for his family had awoken the longing that Harry tried so hard to supress.

Unfortunately, it had been the love for his family that had cost him his life. During the battle at Gringotts, Bill had been mauled by an untransformed Fenrir Greyback. In the act of saving his son, Arthur had exposed himself, blasting Greyback away but suffered a blow from the rubble as the marble of Gringotts exploded. Once the dust had settled, Mrs Weasley's heat-wrenching cries had filled the air, the desperate pleading of the Weasley sons echoing across the battlefield. That night, Harry had hidden himself in his room and broke down, his tears just as much for the family that never happened as they were for the family that would never be the same.

'Oh, they're doing wonderful. My two youngest, well, they graduated Hogwarts—Ron's an Auror and Ginny's playing Quidditch for the Holyhead Harpies,' she beamed.

'Oh – well – that's brilliant,' Harry said, struggling to remember the names of the others.

Like she had known what he was thinking, she continued on. 'Fred and George still have that shop. I try to avoid it as best I can really, but they tell me it's very successful.'

'It's packed to the rafters just about every day, Mum, I think they're a bit more than successful,' Bill said.

'And Bill,' she said, glowing, 'Just had a little girl in May. Victoire Weasley.'

'Congratulations! With Fleur, I assume?'

'Got married right after the war,' Bill grinned, 'Only held off that long because there was no time before.'

'She's adorable,' Molly squealed, shoving a photo of a pinkish blob under his nose. Under closer inspection, Harry saw a cute baby with wispy silver hair. He might have been biased, but he thought Teddy was cuter though. Or maybe it was because he could change his face to be as cute as he wanted.

'Guess the red hair couldn't beat the Veela genes,' Harry laughed, handing the picture back to Molly.

'No, I suppose not,' Molly sighed, tucking it back into her turquoise robes.

'Finishing off what Mum was saying, Charlie's back in Romania with his dragons and Percy's… well, Percy's still at the Ministry.' Bill grimaced at the last.

Deciding to leave that subject alone, Harry shared one last greeting before gesturing down the hall, the Weasley's thanking him as they walked past, Molly patting his arm on the way.

Checking his pocket watch, Harry decided that most, if not all, of the guests were here by now. Sighing, he decided to head to the kitchen, the tinkling glass and loud laughs signalling the party getting started. _It'll be good practice at least._

* * *

The time came. Sirius got the attention of the milling party. He stood at the head of the table, a mixture of weariness and strength, reminding Harry of a minister, ready to announce to his people that war was at hand.

Harry extricated himself from the clutches of Dedalus Diggle, whose overenthusiastic descriptions of his magical fireworks had entangled him for the last hour. Harry moved around to stand behind Sirius, facing the expectant group; amongst them, Professor McGonagall, severe and stately, Hestia Jones, her cheeks ruddy in the firelight, Sturgis Podmore, his square face still curved in a smile, Kingsley Shacklebolt, his bald head shimmering.

'While it is wonderful to see you all again, and looking as great as you do, we had another reason for inviting you all tonight.' Sirius paused, sweeping his eyes over the group.

'I'm sorry for doing this so close to Christmas. It wasn't fair of us to mislead you about our motives tonight either. But we need to know where we stand and who we stand with. Understand this… you are under no obligation to help us.'

Harry could see the worry seep into the group, Mrs Weasley sinking into a seat and Kingsley placing his palms flat on the table, his face grave. The flickering light appeared to lose its cheerful feeling, giving the kitchen an ominous cast.

'Just get on with it Sirius,' Harry said.

'Since our return, Harry and I have been made aware of some unpleasant truths regarding the state of magical Britain. And we're going to do something to change it.'

Harry snorted, rolling his hands. 'Merlin Sirius, elaborate.'

Sirius grinned quickly before taking a deep breath. 'The way we see it, things aren't that much better. The war didn't change much. The people still in power don't care for anything except themselves and their way of life,' Sirius said, his lip curling in disgust.

'And they're not going to change unless we do something about it.

'Be warned… we're not going to be fair, we're not going to work our way up the Ministry with hard-work, we're not going to bide our time until the opportunity strikes. We're going to make our own opportunities. We're going to make enemies. We're going to do what it takes to beat these bastards.' Sirius slapped the table, sharp ringing echoing around the silent kitchen.

Sirius took a step back, calming himself, before looking each of the listeners in the eye.

'I understand if this is too much. You have your families to consider. We're not asking for anything more than you'll be willing to do. But know this. I had to watch as our children grew up to fight the same war we did once already. I'll be damned if I let it happen again.'

Harry could see nods ripple through the group, but also, creeping apprehension filling their faces.

One person rose up, her face wobbling as she tightly grasped her hands together. 'I'm sorry. But I can't. Not again.' Mrs Weasley left silently, the crowd moving aside to make way, murmuring assurances to her. Bill sidled his way to her side, supporting her as she slowly made her way from Grimmauld.

The crack, as the door closed, rang out, echoing in the kitchen, sending a shudder through the group. Nobody else moved, the only sound the rustling of cloaks and the crackling fire. When it appeared nobody else was going to leave, Kingsley broke the silence.

'What do you want us to do?'

A pause - 'Information and recruitment to begin with. After the new year, Harry and I will be making our first public appearance. From there, we'll need to make all the right moves. Harry will be working the press—charities, balls, the lot. At this point, he's still too young to make much of an impact from inside the ministry. The public, however, will love him. I, on the other hand, will be starting out at the Ministry. Whatever connections you can muster up the better. I'm not going to work as a paper pusher for ten years before I get a promotion. Likely the Wizengamot will be my first destination—Merlin knows you only need some pure-blood, some money, and some history to get elected.'

'And what happens then?'

'We fight for equal rights—purebloods and muggleborns, werewolves and goblins, house elves and centaurs. I'm sure there will be plenty of other things we'll want to get done, but at its core, our main goal will be an equal society.'

'What about the Ministry? It's not exactly a shining example of fairness,' Sturgis asked.

'I've already said that I'll bribe my way in to begin with. But that's just to get my foot in the door. After that is where I'll need the Ministry workers' help. You'll spend your time identifying who is corrupt, who is harbouring Death Eater sentiments, who is using their power for their own purposes. Then we'll find all the dirt we can. From there, I'll seek to replace them with the right people—Order members or people that we can trust. I won't have the power to do it myself to begin with, but I'll do my best to build relationships with the people who can. And if all goes well with Harry's part of the plan, he'll be able to use his influence to bring public pressure to bear.'

'Are you sure you need us, Sirius? Sounds like you and Harry have things well in hand,' said Kingsley with a wry smile.

'If only. I might go crazy if we had to do it all ourselves. Listen, what I've said tonight is probably only a portion of the work involved. I've only thought of the things pertaining to me and Harry. There's probably a million other things we've forgotten about. It sounds easy enough, just laying it out for you like that, but this is going to take us years.'

Sirius waited a moment for any more questions, but the group remained silent, wide eyes staring back at him. Harry could tell Sirius was getting antsy—Sirius had said he didn't want to reveal too much, too early—but he was unsure how to wrap it up.

'Look, like I said before, at this point, Harry and I need to make a good impression on magical Britain. I want you all to find out what you'd be comfortable doing and what you can do to help us. We're open to suggestions. Feel free to drop in on us at any time. If we're not here, just leave a note and we'll get back to you. On that note, let's leave this for now. You can stay for a few more drinks or head home, but thank you all for coming tonight.'

Hours later, after the last partygoer had stumbled out the door, Harry and Sirius were quickly cleaning up the mess with a few well-placed Scouring Charms.

'That was a very tame version of our takeover.' Harry said, his eyes on the dishes as he floated them to the sink.

'No sense scaring them this early. No need for them to know about it either. I'm not going to hand off the dirty work,' Sirius said gruffly.

'No, neither am I. I just hope that when they're reading about some scum's disappearance in the paper, they don't decide that we need to be stopped.'

'They won't. We fought a war together. You can't do that without making lifelong connections. They'll understand. Besides, by that point, we should be able to dodge any charges they throw at us. If Malfoy can stay out of Azkaban, what hope do they have putting us away,' Sirius said, a grin on his face.

'Right, right.' But Harry knew that no matter what they had been through, not everyone could be trusted. He thought of Mrs Weasley, who couldn't stand anymore fighting; he thought of the Order and the apprehension filling their faces; and he thought of the last man his family had trusted, who—in his fear and greed—had taken their trust and used it for himself. _People will do anything when they're scared_ , Harry thought. Sirius should have learnt that lesson a long time ago. His parents had never had the chance. 

* * *

**3.20pm, 25th December 2000**

 ** _Willbury Lane, Chipping Camden, Gloucestershire_**

Harry could see Sirius chase Teddy down, his legs kicking wildly as Sirius swung him into the air before throwing him into a pile of snow. Seconds later, a pink faced Teddy emerged, throwing wild clumps of snow as Sirius fled from him, begging for mercy.

Earlier this morning, they had been greeted by a bouncing Teddy and a bleary Tonks, and—at Teddy's insistence—had wasted no time unwrapping the gifts. _It feels different, having kids around for Christmas_ , Harry thought. _There's a lot more noise._ It was good—it had been years since Christmas had been this exciting.

After they had thoroughly coated the living room with scraps of wrapping paper, they had sat down for an extravagant Christmas dinner—Andi had obviously felt obliged to cook something unforgettable. A magnificent golden turkey had sat as the centrepiece, surrounded by roast potatoes, mashed parsnips, honey-roasted carrots, and more sauces than Harry knew existed. She had followed the main course with a huge Christmas pudding—the steaming slice that she had placed in front of Harry had smelled heavenly and tasted even better.

'Chocolate?'

A warm mug was thrust into his hands as Tonks sidled up next to him to watch Sirius and Teddy through the window. She was decorated, in what appeared to be her usual Christmas attire, an eyewatering blend of red and green, her short hair striped like a candy cane.

'Thanks. Where's Andi?'

'Having a kip. I told her not to overdo it but I think she was up at five to start cooking.'

'I'm not surprised. It was absolutely brilliant. I think I need a nap just from eating it.'

Tonks laughed, a husky chuckle that sent a shiver down Harry's spine. 'Better than Sirius' Christmas dinners?'

'No actually, Remus was the one…' Harry trailed off, suddenly stricken that he had touched a sensitive spot.

Tonks touched his arm, gracing him with an understanding smile. 'Don't worry about it, Harry. I miss Remus but I would much rather remember him than not.'

Harry nodded, relieved. 'Well, like I was saying, Remus was usually the one who tried to cook for Christmas—infinitely preferable to Sirius of course, but yeah… Andi's was head and shoulders above.'

'Don't I know it! He tried to cook me a romantic dinner once. I'm fairly sure that was the reason I begged Mum to teach me.'

'Don't let Sirius ever cook for you then. Compared to Sirius, Remus was an expert.'

Tonks grabbed him in a side-arm hug. 'Oh, you poor thing. Having to put up with that for years.'

Harry laughed, swinging his own arm around her. 'Don't worry, we didn't let him in there too often. It was just slightly traumatising for us to find the kitchen destroyed, Sirius in the middle, proudly holding his new mystery dish.'

'So, who cooks then?' Tonks let out a fake gasp. 'Have you been holding out on me? Is Harry Potter a secret master chef?'

'Doubtful. We survive on pub meals mostly, with a side of bacon and eggs. Even Sirius can't mess that up.'

'Oh, I wish I was young again and could eat whatever I wanted without getting fat.'

'You just stuffed yourself. And you're a metamorphmagus. Can't you just make yourself skinny again?'

She cuffed him over his head. 'That's not how it works, you idiot. I'd just be a fat metamorphmagus. Besides, today is Christmas, I'm allowed to stuff myself.'

'Sirius seems alright and he's far older than you.'

'Cheers Harry, but the robes are hiding it I'm sure. He probably has a few undetectable expansion charms in there to hide his giant gut.'

'Aha, and what about his double chin?'

'Why do you think he has that ridiculous beard? It's certainly not to look good. Mark my words, get him out of his robes and into a moleskin coat, and you'd find yourself a fatter, shorter, Hagrid.'

Harry could feel his face twitching from the effort of remaining straight faced. 'Hmm, you might be right. Ah, what about his animagus form? He can't hide his fat while he's Padfoot.'

'Easy, you can't see the fat under all the bloody fur, same as the beard.'

Before Harry could reply—though, how he could without laughing he didn't know—they were interrupted by a squeal from outside. Teddy had hopped on his toy broom and was now zooming around the garden, Sirius chasing him through the snow. A few feet off the ground, Teddy was going in and out of the trees at a dizzying pace.

'Hmm, he must have got his flying talent from his godfather—Remus was never any good on a broom.'

Tonks narrowed her eyes at him, while Harry grinned back. 'Excuse you, Potter? What about me?'

'I may have never seen you on a broom, but I have seen you try to walk. I'm still feeling it actually,' Harry said, rubbing his chest.

'Oh, you're on. Come on, we'll get Sirius to judge us,' Tonks said, pulling him outside.

'You don't think he'll be biased?'

'Don't worry, I'm sure he likes you just fine, Harry.'


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

 **11.02am, 30** **th** **December 2000**

 ** _Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Ministry of Magic, London_**

'Sit down.'

McConickey sat, uncomfortable on the hardbacked chair, while Director Blishwick examined a piece of paper, blank-faced under his scrutiny. Unable to look at her for long, he took in her office—he wouldn't call it messy but it was certainly cluttered—the thick oak desk was strewn with paperwork in small uneven piles, the filing cabinets weren't shut neatly but pulled slightly open at random intervals. Above her head, memos swarmed, the paper wings fluttering the only sound in the office. He couldn't see any pictures, any personal decorations. It seemed she kept them on her person—from her reputation he hadn't expected it, but she was flaunting several pieces of extravagant jewellery. The most eye-catching sat on her right hand, glinting as she turned a page. A slim silver ring with sapphires encircling it, the pattern sparking something in the depths of his memory.

Frustrated by his inability to connect it to anything, he looked up to find Blishwick staring at him, a single eyebrow raised. He gulped, his eyes darting away, allowing them to be drawn to the crowd of memos. Blishwick was intimidating—not from stature—indeed she was rather plain looking, very non-descript. _I wonder if it's the desk_ , he thought, _or maybe her reputation_. It hardly mattered. Truthfully, he was of the opinion that Blishwick would scare people as a shop clerk—he was sure her customers would never dare to haggle with her. _That's even if they have the balls to go in the shop_ , he chuckled, hastily trying to disguise it by clearing his throat. Blishwick didn't even blink. _In fact_ , he thought, _she's not all that different from a shop clerk really_. There were times when Blishwick appeared to _shop_ through her emotions, trying on a few different emotions for size before finally settling on the most suitable one.

The minutes passed. His stuffy robes were now sticking his chubby rear, his only relief the miniscule fidgeting he allowed himself.

'Report.'

The sharp command startled him, wobbling precariously on his chair. Straightening under her gaze, he tugged on his tight collar.

'Well, ya see, when you came to me a while back now and asked if anyone wanted files pulled that seemed suspicious like… well, there was this one bloke just the other day, he was a bit of a twitchy one. Kept looking around as if You-Know-Who was gonna jump out of the closet.'

'Who is he and what files?' Blishwick ground out, her fingers tapping against the desk.

McConickey gulped. 'Right, right. That's the funny thing see, it was some bloke from maintenance wanting a file on Minister Selwyn. I asked him why he wanted information about the Minister and do you know what he said? Bedtime reading! Bleeding idiot if I ever saw one. So, I told him to bugger off.'

'His…name?'

'Oh, yeah, yeah, I think it was Cattermole or something. Reggie maybe. Not the brightest wand that bloke.'

Blishwick nodded, scratching a quick note with her quill. 'Fine. Get out.'

'Right, sure, no worries, I'll just be on my way.'

McConickey left, very glad that he no longer had to stay in the office with a furiously scowling Blishwick.

* * *

 **9.45am, 1** **st** **January 2001**

 ** _United Stadium, Puddlemere_**

'Remember, polite, charming, humble, just like we practiced.'

This had been the third time Sirius had reminded Harry and it was beginning to wear on him.

'I remember. Doesn't mean I'm excited for it though.' Harry grimaced.

'Get used to it.'

'I feel like a bloody ponce.' Harry fingered the expensive robes he was sporting.

'You are.'

'You raised me.'

'You're James' son. It was guaranteed you'd be one from birth.'

'You've been telling me for years you were practically twins.'

'Didn't say we were exactly the same. What he had in ponceyness, I had in roguish charm.'

Harry snorted. 'You don't have charm. My dad probably had ten times the charm you have.'

'Not likely. Took him four years to get Lily to agree to a date.'

'Then he married her. I don't see your wife around anywhere.'

'I said roguish charm. Rogues don't get married,' Sirius said, indignant.

'Well, isn't that convenient.'

'It certainly is.'

'I'm gonna hex you,' Harry grumbled.

'Good luck junior. The day you get a hex off on me is the day I'll be too old to realise.'

The portkey activated, sending them spinning away. They arrived in a blur of colour to a shaking stadium, bedecked with navy and gold—wizards and witches wearing the same colours were gathered all around, cramming into the entrances to see the first match of the new year. Puddlemere versus Tutshill was one of the most anticipated games of the last few years, two juggernaut teams that had razed any and all opposition they had faced. Harry was hoping for at least a week-long game—though he doubted they would get to stay for all of it. This would be the first time he'd get the chance to watch a quidditch game in Britain, something he'd dreamed about for years.

'Come on, let's get to our seats. The reporters can find us later. I want to see some quidditch,' Sirius said, pushing Harry along.

'You know, I'm getting slightly worried about you. All you talk about is reporters these days.' Harry found himself jostling with a few rather boisterous supporters, faces painted and singing war cries like old tribal warriors.

'Ah, you've only seen me when we're in hiding or running around the world. It's about time the public finds out just how great Sirius Black is!' he said, throwing his hands out wide, causing more than a few shocked exclamations to break out.

'Merlin help me.'

Harry hadn't expected that involving the Order would pay off so quickly, but only a couple of days after Christmas, they'd been sent box tickets to the game by Terry Bradshaw, a late addition to the Order, joining as the second war reached its climax. An employee of the Department of Magical Games and Sports, he had scrounged up tickets for the two of them, perhaps thinking it would provide them with the public platform they wanted. Given that they were sitting in the box, a lavish room that could be seen from any stand in the stadium through a pair of omnioculars, Harry doubted they would remain unnoticed for long. As they walked to their seats, he could already hear whispers floating in their wake, heads following them down the row. Harry sent his best approximation of a charming smile at those who stared at him, causing them to blink in embarrassment, quickly looking away before peering back as Harry moved on.

Harry could feel his own face heat and was thankful that his cheeks were already ruddy from the cold wind. He tucked his scarf more carefully around himself, navy and gold in support of Puddlemere. After hearing of his father's fanaticism for the team, and with Sirius an avid supporter, he had become a huge supporter. As a child, he and Sirius had spent many evenings crowded around the wireless, desperately cheering Puddlemere to victory.

Reaching the box, Sirius clambered in first, pausing for a fraction before letting Harry through. Entering, Harry saw what had caused Sirius' hesitation—sitting at the front, talking earnestly with the balding man next to him, was a head of shiny blonde hair, slicked back down his neck. Harry's hand plunged into his robes, comforted by firmly gripping his wand. Sirius looked back, his face grim. A slight tilt of his head towards Lucius. Harry nodded in reply. Breathing in deeply they approached, consciously relaxing themselves.

'Lucius! It's been far too long.' Again, Sirius spread his arms wide, an obnoxious grin on his face.

Malfoy spun around, white fingers clenching his cane, his eyes wide. Harry hadn't seen him since they'd infiltrated Malfoy Manor in an attempt to destroy Nagini—at the time, Lucius had just escaped Azkaban. A shivering, pale, mess of a man, Harry had pitied him too much to kill him. Now, Lucius appeared in good health—his sunken cheeks had filled out and his eyes had lost their foggy madness.

It took him no more than a second to adjust, disdain inflating his posture once again. But Harry could see the slight tremble of his lips and his eyes were opened far too wide—using his peripheral vision to watch their wand hands instead of telegraphing it by flicking his eyes back and forth.

'Black… and Potter. What a surprise.' Harry clenched his jaw—having only heard it in battle before, Harry had to fight the onslaught of instincts that threatened to take hold.

Luckily, Sirius seemed to suffer none of the same problems. He only grinned wider, stepping even closer to Malfoy until he was close enough to swing an arm around his shoulders. 'At your service. How is my dear cousin these days? I haven't heard from Cissy in ages.'

'She's well. And you two? I hadn't heard of your return.'

'Just got back for Christmas. Harry and I thought we'd come down to catch the match.'

'Indeed. And can we expect your presence at more matches?'

'Oh, you'll be seeing plenty of us from now on, Lucius.'

'You haven't introduced us to your friend. Harry Potter and Sirius Black, it's a pleasure,' Harry greeted, holding out his hand.

The chubby, balding, man bounced forward, pumping their hands furiously.

'It's an honour, a great honour. The name's Albert Gamp. Senior Undersecretary to the Minister.'

'Fancy that. What brings you out here today?' Sirius said, his attention darting away from Malfoy.

Puffing up, Gamp replied. 'The minister sent me to take a look at the new broomsticks that'll be on show today. A company named QuikStick has entered the market and say their brooms are even better than Firebolts. About time a British maker beat those German bastards.'

Harry only smiled back, already irritated by his unctuous tone. When no one replied immediately, Gamp eagerly continued, his piggy eyes swinging to Sirius.

'I wonder, Mr Black, if you had considered working for the Ministry? I'm absolutely certain the Minister would love to give someone of your stature an opportunity.'

Sirius kept his grin, but Harry could tell he was already irritated. 'I haven't really been looking for a job. Maybe. It's something I'll have to give some thought to.'

Not to be deterred, Gamp switched back to Harry. 'And you Mr Potter – well, we'd love to have you! If you're interested, I'm sure I can get you an introduction to Director Blishwick – she's the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, you know?'

'Thank you for the offer, but I'd like to settle back in to Britain before deciding anything.'

'Certainly, certainly, perhaps in a few months. The offer is there any time.'

Sirius interrupted, a politely feigned look of interest on his face. 'Perhaps you could tell me more about what you do for the Minister? I'm afraid I'm not quite as caught up on the politics of the Ministry as I should be.'

'Certainly,' he said, launching into a long spiel about policies and laws and guidelines that Harry rapidly lost interest in. Not willing to be drawn into conversation by a glaring Lucius Malfoy, Harry slowly drifted away from them—exchanging a few greetings with the sparse occupants of the box, accepting their thanks, and enduring their tearful handshakes and hugs. Finally, he got to the edge of the box, peering out over the ledge to see the stands filled with milling people, sparks shooting through the air, knots of people drunk or arguing or cheering or all three. _The flashing banners that waved throughout the crowd made the stadium look as if it were one of those giant muggle tellyvisions_ , he thought. Harry settled in to his seat, joined a few minutes later by Sirius.

'I can feel the grease rubbing off on me already,' he said, wiping his hands on his robes.

Harry's reply was interrupted by seven blurs that shot onto the pitch, light blue robes fluttering behind them. The crowd's roar was punctuated with boos as the Tutshill Tornados weaved around the stadium, the commentator valiantly announcing their names over the sound.

'And here are your champions – Puddlemere United!'

Harry and Sirius jumped to their feet as the announcer's voice boomed out and a diamond formation of navy and gold rushed out, the crowd reaching fever pitch.

'The snitch is released – quaffle's up – game on!'

* * *

It was a few hours into the game when Harry noticed it. The game was tensely contested, score for score, the seekers following each other so closely they were almost one person. They hadn't deviated from that strategy for so long, it only took Harry a few seconds to realise the problem. The seeker for Puddlemere, Elise Kennington, had split out, her broom acting erratically, slowly ramping up to higher and higher speeds. The raucous crowd was slowly becoming frightened, cheers turning to screams, as they looked on in horror.

Harry, already on his feet, rushed to edge of the box as Kennington rocketed around, the broomstick swinging wildly out of control. Though there were enchantments woven into the ground to soften the landings of fallen players, there were no such protections for those that flew into the ground on their broom. With his omnioculars, Harry could see the tight grasp the seeker had on her broomstick, her legs rigid around it and her fingers white. None of the other players could get near her, lest they get knocked from their own broom and circling underneath her proved futile, for the broom's erratic movements were impossible to follow at speed.

'Harry…' Sirius warned, his hand resting on Harry's shoulder.

'Don't. I'm not going to watch Sirius.' Harry brushed his hand away.

Deciding to do what he did best and act, rather than waste time thinking, Harry pulled out his wand, waving a befuddled Sirius back. ' _Depulso_ ,' Harry said, his wand pointed at the floor, the spell launched him into the air, arcing over the stadium. His mouth stretched wide in a smile. There was nothing quite like flying, whether he was on a broom or not. He rose to the highest point, losing momentum before starting his plummet back to earth. The crowd had been drowned out as the wind rushed past, buffeting his robes. Turning his head, he spied the still bucking broomstick below him and following it as best he could, he called ' _Accio_ ' though his voice was blown away before he could hear it. Immediately, he sped up even further, changing trajectory to crash into the seeker. The instant before he hit her, she noticed, a small shriek escaping before he cannoned into her, knocking them both off the broom. Her grip transferred to him, clutching his robes tightly. They dropped straight down, the other players racing in vain to catch up to them. Harry could see the ground rapidly approaching and despite the enchantments, he knew dropping from their height could possibly be fatal. At the last second, he brought his wand around, shouting ' _Depulso_ ' once again.

Their speed slowed dramatically, the banishing spell hitting them like a bludger, winding and almost pulling them apart. They dropped to the ground, the enchantments cushioning their landing. Harry grit his teeth as his ribs grated against each other, cracked from his spell.

Safely on the ground, the noise filtered back in, cheers and screams of concern echoing all around him. A stream of mediwizards were running onto the pitch towards them, wands at the ready. He looked over to Kennington to make sure she was fine. Her eyes were wide, staring at him, her throat bobbing uncomfortably.

'Thank you,' she stuttered.

'No worries,' Harry said, waving his hand. A hiss of pain escaped. _Right, no more moving until I get a potion_ , Harry thought as the first of the mediwizards reached them.

* * *

 **8.16pm, 1** **st** **January 2001**

 ** _Saint Mungo's Hospital, London_**

'You just can't help yourself, can you? Voldemort would have defeated you in two seconds if he'd just taken all the pretty women hostage.'

'Oh, shut it.'

'You better watch it, Harry. Witches will start throwing themselves from buildings when you walk by just for the chance to get saved by Harry Potter.'

Harry had woken up, blinking in the harsh light of Saint Mungo's, a stark white room only occupied by himself and a pacing Sirius—who had immediately rounded on him. He had been torturing Harry for the last five minutes and—stuck in a bed without his wand—he hadn't been able to escape. Aware that it wasn't going to stop anytime soon, he resorted to drastic measures, raising a hand to his ribs and groaning, hoping it was sufficiently realistic. He wasn't disappointed. Sirius immediately dropped his teasing grin, rushing to his side to fluff his pillow and adjust his blankets. While still annoying, this version of Sirius was far easier to ignore.

'How's that?'

'That's a bit better thanks.'

'Do you want me to call a Healer in?'

'Nah don't worry about it, they said I might have some pain for a bit.'

'Oh good. Well, not good. You know what I mean.'

Harry stifled his laughter, remembering to wince in pain at the last second.

'Right, okay, don't be funny. Umm… At least we made a good impression.'

'I suppose. I'm not going to be in any trouble for interfering, am I?'

'Na, I think they were so excited when they realised it was you, they forgot all about it. I don't think anyone except for the Aurors would mind you stepping in to help them out. When you get out, there'll be a few reporters waiting. I told them they could ask us questions after I've made sure you're alright.'

'And they accepted that? I'm surprised none of them have tried to sneak in.'

'They can try. This is the high security wing.'

'Do we know what happened to the broom? Was it an attack?'

Sirius sighed, leaning against the bed. 'No, not yet. That slimy git was raving about them, talking about how they're so advanced, they're gonna beat the Firebolt, they're gonna put us on the map, and so on.'

Harry raised an eyebrow. 'So, sabotage? Could be a lot to lose for anyone invested in Firebolts.'

'Maybe. Could also be someone who had a grudge against Puddlemere or their seeker. I'll ask around anyway, see what people know.'

Cutting off any more conversation, his healer walked in, flicking through his clipboard, his lime green robes emblazoned with the crossed wand and bones.

'Okay, Mr Potter you're all set to go.'

'Go - he's still in pain,' Sirius said in disbelief.

'What? Mr Potter, I told you to call for me if you had any problems.' The healer turned to Harry, his eyes probing him.

Harry couldn't keep his face straight any longer and burst out guffawing at Sirius' frantic face. He immediately turned sour.

'Oh, very funny, joking about your health. Your mother would've stuck you to the bed for that one. Don't worry about it, Healer.'

The healer chuckled, handing Sirius some parchment. 'I'll leave you to see yourselves out then. Just take the release forms to the front desk.'

There were more than a few reporters in the reception of Saint Mungo's—a small scrum was pinned in the corner by a burly orderly, patients waiting to be treated looking at the group in befuddlement. They burst into noise when Harry entered the room, shouting questions at him. He waited for them to quiet down, a reporter at the front asking him the first question he could hear.

'Mr Potter, what injuries did you sustain during your heroics?'

'Well, I wouldn't call it that. Just a few cracked ribs, nothing the healers here couldn't fix in a jiff.'

Another reporter jumped in. Harry could see elbows thrown in their struggle to get closer. 'Mr Potter, can I ask what spell you used to save Ms Kennington today?'

'It's actually a combination of pretty simple spells. Albus Dumbledore was the one who taught me. He found that using a banishing charm to launch himself from the ground and using a summoning charm to glide towards a target would let him sail through the air.'

'The summoning spell? You can't use it like that!' said one, his disbelief echoed by the group.

'Ah, I thought the same, but you should know that Dumbledore was never bothered by what we thought. He found that anything heavier than your body weight was impossible to summon. But when you're in the air, you can use anything more than that to change your direction in the air. It's the same principle for the banishing charm – the greater the weight you try to banish, the more force that will be directed back at you.'

The next question had them all leaning forward eagerly. 'Have you ever used it in a duel?'

'I can't say that I have. Generally, I would advise anyone against leaving their feet in a duel. You'd be quite an easy target gliding through the air.'

A rather breathless looking witch asked the next question. 'Can you confirm that you and Ms Kennington have been in a secret relationship for the last year and that's why you're back in England?'

Harry gave a short laugh. 'I'm sure Ms Kennington is quite a catch and she's certainly a hell of a seeker but no, we're not in any relationship. Today is the first time we've met.'

Now that the ice had been broken, the questions came thick and fast again. Harry was barely able to keep up with them.

'Mr Potter! You've already shown your penchant for heroics is alive and well – any plans to join the Ministry? Perhaps the Aurors?'

'Ah, well, I'm not quite sure what I'll be doing yet. I think there's more than a few things I could do with my time.'

'Mr Potter, you and Mr Black haven't been back to England since the defeat of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named—where have you been all this time?'

'Well, we decided we needed a bit of a holiday. So, we spent a bit of time travelling around, visiting some other magical countries.'

'And what made you decide to come back?'

'England has always been my home, and Sirius' of course. You can only eat so much foreign food before you get the craving for a good ol' English roast.'

A particularly greedy looking reporter pushed her way to the front, sparkly horn-rimmed glasses studying him over her acid green quill. 'And who's been cooking that for you? I'm sure there's many young witches lining up for the chance to have dinner with Harry Potter?'

'I'm afraid I'll have to disappoint. Sirius has some excellent cooks in his family. It won't be long before I'm as round as a quaffle.'

Before anyone else could get a word in, she added another question, a sly look in her eyes. 'What about the rumours that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named cursed you with another lightning bolt scar during the final battle? Is that why you've been away for so long? Perhaps hunting down You-Know-Who again?'

Harry stared uncomfortably while Sirius shifted next to him, his hand resting on Harry's shoulder. 'Like I said before, we decided a bit of a holiday was in order. As for Voldemort'—he paused as the group shuddered— 'he's dead. And he's not coming back. His body was burned in front of more than one hundred witnesses. I'm sure they can confirm it for you.'

Sirius stepped forward, waving his arms as the reporters tried to shout more questions, the woman who asked smiling widely at them. 'Right, that's it, no more questions now.' At their groans, he pointed to the smug woman. 'If you want to blame someone, I suggest her. We aren't interested in dealing with anyone's baseless fearmongering.'

'Wasn't expecting that to be honest,' Harry said, as they walked through the rippling glass storefront to the grey street of London, leaving a mix of excited and disappointed reporters behind. 'At least not yet. I thought they'd save the more ridiculous questions until we start boring them.'

'We should have. That was Rita Skeeter,' Sirius grunted.

Harry felt a flash of realisation. 'She was the one who tried to discredit Albus and the Order.'

'Yep. She's bloody good at it too, that's the worst part.'

Sliding past the rushing muggles, they entered a cramped alleyway, crouching behind the dustbins.

'I'll meet you at home,' Harry said, twisting in place, the world blurring into motion.

* * *

 **5.35pm, 5** **th** **January 2001**

 ** _Number 12 Grimmauld Place, London_**

'Kingsley, come in,' Harry said, opening the door a little wider as Kingsley flicked the last of the water from his coat, rain bucketing down behind him.

'Thanks lad,' he said, his deep voice warming the house all by itself.

'How've you been?' Harry said, leading him to the kitchen.

'Excited. It's been too long since I've broken a few rules.'

'Kingsley,' Sirius greeted, rocking on his chair while he threw scrunched up paper at the fire. 'What's brought you here?'

'I've got some info on that company.' On the table he placed a manila folder, pulling pages and spreading them out. In the middle sat a picture, a well-dressed man in his middle age pumping the hand of someone equally pompous. 'The owner of QuikStik is Ernest Kanter. Keeps a low profile generally. Outwardly, he was neutral during both wars but each time, his businesses have flourished. He's got connections all over the place—pretty much every item in Knockturn Alley goes through him at some point. While he didn't command the Snatchers, he was the one they came to with their loot. The man makes a living off shady deals and the black market. If you can find Dung he'll probably have some good information. And… he's also on the Wizengamot.'

'So, he definitely has enemies then,' Harry said, looking closely at the jovial man—he didn't look particularly menacing.

'It's possible. But the type of people who would attack innocents using his brooms? His enemies would be the people he stole from. He wants to keep all the dangerous people happy,' Sirius mused.

'Any indication he might've failed?' Harry directed at Kingsley who shook his head.

'No. Apart from the quidditch incident everything has been running smoothly.'

'Hmm. We might have to broaden our investigation then.'

'I wasn't finished,' Kingsley interrupted. 'There is one slight discrepancy. I was looking through the quality control reports from his businesses when I found that every single one was perfect. There was nothing wrong, no employee complaints, no shoddy premises, no malfunctioning enchantments. Every one of these was written by the same inspector. Now, either he runs one of the tightest ships I've ever seen, or…'

'Or there's something fishy going on.'

'Exactly.'

'I'd say this merit's further inspection. What do you say Harry, time to whip out the old cloak again?' Sirius said, grinning a little wildly.

'It's a plan,' Harry replied, his own smile feeling a bit feral as well.

Kingsley chuckled, swinging his cloak on in preparation to leave. 'By the way, Reg wanted me to tell you to expect him at some point. Says he's got something important to talk to you about.'

'Tell him to pop around whenever. Seeya Kingsley,' Sirius called.

Harry echoed his goodbye before huddling with Sirius around the files to begin planning for their first covert mission.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

 **8.45pm, 8** **th** **January 2001**

 _ **Atrium, Ministry of Magic, London**_

'I must say, you and Mr Black are looking absolutely darling tonight,' said the middle-aged witch, her robes resplendent with flickering constellations. Esmeralda Prewett had just found Harry in a lull, the gaggle of wizards and witches who had mobbed him at the beginning of the evening content to watch and gossip about him for the moment. Mrs Prewett had sidled up to him, startling Harry out of surveying the reception—her starry robes, while extravagant, were one of the more understated fashion choices of the evening. Frankly, Harry's eyes were starting to hurt—the multitude of colours that were alternately flashing, swirling, and in one case, honking, weren't easy to look at. Harry, unable to stomach wearing flashy robes, had stuck with dark green, though Sirius had insisted on the most expensive fabric—protective enchantments had been woven into the cloth to make it as strong as dragonhide.

'As do you,' he said, smiling back. He shifted his drink nervously in his hand—he could usually tell what someone wanted when they came to talk to him, however, Prewett simply smiled, neither predatory or greedy or conniving. Just happiness, with a tinge of nervousness.

A particularly bright burst of colour forced him to look away, blinking his eyes furiously to clear the spots in his vision. 'They do tend to go a bit overboard, don't they?' she laughed.

'Yes. I thought I might've got the wrong place when I stepped out of the floo to be greeted by… this,' he said, waving an arm at the crowd. A couple of people, caught up in their excitement, waved back. Feeling his cheeks flush a little, Harry covered them up by taking another sip of mead and pretending not to notice. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Sirius watching him, a surreptitious grin on his face as he listened to Minister Selwyn talking. _Prick_.

'Oh yes, whenever they hear an important guest is coming they have to parade around like peacocks. I must confess,' she said with an embarrassed grimace, 'my husband is one of their number. He's wearing an absolutely atrocious orange robe and nothing I said could convince him to wear something else.'

Harry tried and failed to hide his chuckle. 'I think I may remember him. Lewyn?' At her exasperated nod, he continued. 'We barely got the chance to introduce ourselves but those robes certainly left an impression.'

'Hmph. Don't tell him that. He'll think that means the robes were good. You wouldn't believe what he wore during the gala when the King of Spain was visiting.'

'And I don't think I want to know,' Harry grimaced.

She snorted. 'Fools, the lot of them.'

Harry glanced sideways at her, before opening up a little. 'I kind of like it actually. Albus was always rather proud of having a crazy wardrobe.'

'Oh, I didn't mean – I mean – I'm sorry,' she spluttered.

'Don't worry about it, I know. I'm certain I called him barmy a number of times.'

'Oh, well, alright…' she said, subsiding into an increasingly awkward silence.

Harry hurriedly cleared his throat. 'So, what do you do with your time, Mrs Prewett?'

'I take care of children in Hogsmeade. Teaching or playing with them for the day.'

'I didn't realise there were wizarding schools for children before eleven.'

She smiled, embarrassed. 'It's not really a school to be honest. I just help with their reading and writing mostly. Their parents can lead quite busy lives… especially the last few years,' she said, glancing nervously at him.

Harry cleared his throat. 'Well, that's excellent, I…' for a moment, he floundered before she gracefully threw him a lifeline.

'That was actually what I was hoping to talk to you about. It's not always easy to find something fun for the kids to do that's not going to get them blown up. It would be amazing if you'd be able to come in one day and talk to them or play with them or whatever you'd be comfortable with.'

Harry was stunned. Worried about his silence, she hurried on.

'It's just, you're their hero, Mr Potter. It would mean the world to them if you came along.'

'I'll do it,' he interrupted. 'I'll do it.'

'Oh, wonderful,' she said, clapping her hands before grasping Harry's hand and shaking it. 'Thank you, Mr Potter, thank you.'

'It's fine,' he said uncomfortably as she inhaled rather shakily. Looking away to let her compose herself, he noticed Minister Selwyn striding through the crowd towards him. Evidently, Esmeralda noticed him too.

'I'll leave you to it, Mr Potter. I'll owl you. Thank you so much.' She rushed away, disappearing into the crowd. Harry sighed, plastering on a smile and bracing himself for the Minister's, sure to be long-winded, conversation.

…

'Mr Potter it is an honour, an honour to finally meet you. It gives me great pleasure to welcome you back to Britain.'

Minister Selwyn was not who Harry had expected—he looked more like Hagrid than Malfoy. A scruffy beard coated his face, grey flecks running through it. He wasn't pudgy, nor was he thin—he was an imposing sort of man or would've been, if not for the beaming smile he bestowed upon everyone he met.

'Myself and the Ministry are at your service, it's the least we could do.'

Harry floundered for a moment as the grinning Minister pumped his hand, before recovering. 'Thank you Minister. It's a pleasure to meet you.'

'I know you met my Undersecretary, Albert Gamp, at the Quidditch. He was quite effusive in his praise of you. I dread to think what could have happened if you hadn't been there.'

'I'm sure someone else would have done something,' Harry said, feeling his stomach begin to squirm.

'Maybe… I know Gamp has already breached this conversation with you, but I feel like I have to say it again. If you ever get the urge to work as an Auror, come to me and you'll be an Auror before the day is out. I do understand if you never want to take that option though. You have given more to Britain than most have in their entire lifetimes.' Selwyn spoke earnestly, his eyes boring into Harry the whole time.

'Right, thank you, Minister,' Harry said, a bit wrong-footed. He had assumed that Gamp would have merely been an extension of Selwyn—perhaps Selwyn just hid it better.

'I am sorry for the lacklustre ball Mr Potter. Usually, there are some brilliant entertainers that we would have hired but the short notice… well, we had to make do with Ms Warbeck.' He grimaced.

'She's not that bad, sir.'

'Oh, certainly, certainly, but really this sort of thing pales in comparison to our usual celebrations. Why, I can't believe you missed our Christmas party. It was a thing of beauty, Mr Potter, exquisite ice sculptures ringed the hall – a master artisan carved them, you know – we had enchanted snow which wouldn't just be freezing when it landed on you, no, it's touch felt more like a Patronus straight to your soul. And its taste! Imagine yourself dancing with some pretty lass, and you get thirsty – just stick your tongue out and voila! Every snowflake that melts on your tongue tastes like the best glass of your favourite drink. I'm sure I had a bottle of Ogden's without touching a glass.'

'It sounds extraordinary,' Harry said, envisioning the scene in the atrium.

'Our entertainment was one of the most renowned magical troupes across all the world – the Circus Maximus Magicae!'

Harry snapped his head back. 'I didn't realise they were performing outside of Rome?'

Selwyn preened. 'Only on very special occasions. Since Hogwarts was established around 1000 years ago, they put together an extraordinary performance in tribute to the founders and our school.'

'That must have been quite the show. We never got the chance to attend when we were travelling through Rome.'

'Oh, but you must go at some point. Listen, if you ever want tickets for you, or anyone else, let me know. I've become very good friends with their sponsor. I'm sure she'd be quite happy to meet you.'

'Thank you for the offer, Minister,' Harry said, causing the Minister's beam to, somehow, become even brighter.

'Excellent, excellent, well I'll leave you to it then?' he said, clapping Harry on the shoulder. He leaned in to whisper conspiratorially, pointing behind him. 'I think you have some dancing to do, lad,' he said, laughing as he bounced away. Goosebumps erupted on Harry's neck as he heard an outbreak of giggles float behind him—his palms got clammy instantly and he had to fight the urge to flee.

'Once more, Harry, once more,' he said to himself, turning around with a fake smile.

…

'Time to leave?' Harry asked hopefully.

'Give it another half an hour. The dancefloor is starting to empty. Once it's only half full, we can make our exit,' Sirius relented, flipping his pocket watch open.

'I didn't realise this would be so exhausting,' he groaned.

'I did. My mother was a very cruel woman, but forcing me to come to these things was beyond the pale.

Harry chuckled, watching the swirling dancers, whose—often clashing—robes lit up the dark dancefloor. He had spent near an hour out there himself—as soon as he finished with one dance, he'd been pulled into the arms of another star struck young witch or giggling middle-aged wife. He had finally lost them in the crowd, thankful just one more time for his fashion choice allowing him to fade into a shadowy corner, where he was soon joined by a similarly tousled Sirius.

'You should get back out there. Look at all those pretty witches searching for another dance.'

'Half of them were tripping over my feet,' Harry said wryly. 'They were all freezing up. Why aren't you still out there?'

'Well, some of those grumpy old bastards were starting to look a bit angry with me. But hey, if they didn't want to dance with their wives, someone should. Can't blame me for appreciating them.'

'I can just see the Daily Prophet headline tomorrow – _Sirius Black: Homewrecker!_ And then they'll follow that up with a full-page spread denouncing me as a terrible dancer,' Harry laughed, though privately, he was half-afraid there would be.

'How low you must think of me, Potter,' Sirius said, laughing with him. After it died down, he added in a more serious tone, 'So, what did you think of our esteemed Minister Selwyn?'

Harry paused, his brow furrowing. 'He was… odd. I expected someone very different to be honest. I think I was expecting the worst – pretty much a death eater without the mask.'

Sirius sighed. 'Yeah, I know. We didn't really succeed at judging him on his own merits. He reminded me of Gamp though.'

'Really?' Harry said, surprised. 'I didn't think he was like Gamp at all.'

'He doesn't talk like him, but he talks about the same things – he compliments you, talks up the Ministry and its partners, acts like you're his friend. When Gamp did it, it felt fake right? Like he wanted something from you?' Harry nodded. 'When Selwyn does it, he makes you feel important, like he wants to do something for you.'

Harry shook his head ruefully. 'I should have noticed that.'

'Obviously, Gamp was trying to copy Selwyn but he doesn't have the charisma to succeed. Watch them both when they talk to people and figure out what people like and don't like. It's a useful skill to have.'

'Trying to train me up for Minister?' Harry asked slyly.

'My Undersecretary actually. I think we both know the people would elect me over you.'

'I could've beaten you at one-year old Sirius. There's no way you beat me now.'

Sirius sighed tiredly, raising his eyes upwards. 'Why'd you have to leave me with this little bugger, James?'

Harry just laughed, going back to watching the slowly emptying dancefloor. He wondered what it would have been like if they were still here. If they would have been in the corner with them, complaining about tired feet and boring conversations; or would they have been kicking their heels up, his dad swinging his mum wildly around the floor as she laughed at his antics. A red dress caught his eye, it's colour so close to that of his mother's hair. Her partner was wearing striped robes, flashing scarlet and gold—if Harry squinted his eyes, he could almost imagine it was them, his dad embarrassing his mum with a ridiculous set of robes as she led him gracefully as she could, her long hair cascading down her back, swinging side to side with the music.

...

 **11.21pm, 9** **th** **January 2001**

 _ **Migneint, Gwynedd, Wales**_

Harry cursed, pulling his sodden boot from the bog, his jeans muddy to the knee after trekking through the moor for a few hours. Dodging mischievous hinkypunks trying to trick them into worse trouble, they were attempting to locate the QuikStik Factory. The reports that Kingsley had given them only said that it was located somewhere in the isolated country of Migneint and they had been unsuccessful in their attempts to acquire a portkey. It was possible that they would've been able to use their fame to get a guided tour to the facility, but they'd decided in the end that they needed an unobstructed investigation. If they weren't able to gain anything from this operation, the next step was to look into Puddlemere and Kennington—all while keeping a close eye on Kanter of course.

Ahead of him, Sirius pulled to a stop as well, wrenching his foot free with a squelch. Looking at the ruined boots with distaste, he remarked, 'What kind of wizards are we, that we didn't think to cast an Impervius Charm on our clothes.'

'I was sure we'd find it easily. So, either very stupid, or very cocky.'

'I think we're a bit out of practice. All we've done the last couple of years is the flashy jobs—apparate in, wands blazing, job done.'

'You might be right about that one.'

A yellow light sparked to life to their left, a small ball bobbing up and down in the gloom.

'Alright, better be careful. Looks similar to one of the other ones. We haven't fallen for it yet, so it might try to scare us away from a safe path,' Sirius explained, carefully measuring each step he took.

'I didn't think hinkypunks were smart enough for that?'

'They're tricky little bastards and this is one of the most sparsely populated areas in Britain for a reason. People usually don't get back out of here.'

'And yet here we are.'

'Yeah, well, we aren't just any people.'

'You know, I really hope you were lying when you said you got less arrogant since Hogwarts. You're a bloody nightmare now.'

Sirius stopped, whipping his wand out in front of him. Harry immediately felt his blood begin to pump, itching to run for cover. For a moment, the only sounds piercing the night was the low chatter from the nocturnal wildlife and the rustle of grass from the slowly stirring wind.

'We're close.'

Sirius flicked his wand, globes of light ballooning from the tip to float over the moor, a bobbing trail lighting their way. They separated, helping Harry and Sirius search bit by bit.

'Even if they've hired guards, they'll just think they're hinkypunks,' Sirius explained at Harry's questioning look. Harry nodded, watching the lights as they exposed more of the hidden marsh. He kept his eyes pinned for any blocky shadows that may signal the body of the factory.

'There.' Sirius pointed at a light travelling to their far right—it was floating parallel to a brick wall, the rough construction sticking out like a sore thumb in the flat bog. Flicking his wand again, Sirius extinguished most of the lights, leaving a few to burn so they could still orient themselves in the darkness.

It took them another fifteen minutes to make their way within 100 metres of the factory, slowly dragging themselves through the sludge. _My shoes will be cemented to my feet by the end of this_ , Harry thought as he wrenched his foot free from a particularly stubborn puddle once again. He could just start to see the black mass of the factory looming in front of them when Sirius held his hand out again. He crouched, gingerly brushing a deformed print on the ground. Straightening, he peered into the darkness, his wand clenched tightly.

'Stay quiet,' he warned.

'More Hinkypunks?'

'No. Redcaps – he's placed his bloody factory in the middle of an old battleground.'

'What about other protections?'

'I'll have to get closer. I was never as good as Albus. As long as we keep under the cloak we should get through most though – or at least not get into too much trouble.'

'Time for the cloak then?'

Sirius nodded, eyes flicking around, alert for any movement. Harry removed the cloak from underneath his shirt, swinging the silvery folds over them. They'd have to walk stooped to hide their feet, but the cloak was far safer than a disillusionment charm and far stronger than any normal invisibility cloak.

Creeping forward, they took great pains to step on the protruding foliage, trying their best to avoid the mud that would squelch loudly. When mud was their only option, Harry would transfigure the mud to rock, small stones that would sink slightly as they stepped over them.

Sirius whispered in Harry's ear. '30 degrees on our left.' Harry searched, finding a shadowy humanoid figure bent over 30 metres away from them. As they crept closer, the sounds of sleep began to reach their ears.

They ghosted past the sleeping redcap—its squashed face was drooping forward, pointy ears reminding Harry of Kreacher. In its hand, it loosely held a crudely fashioned bone club—what it lacked in quality, it made up for in viciousness. Its trumpeting snores sounded like a ship's foghorn in the quiet, blanketing the soft squish of their feet as they tip toed. With painstaking care, and a great deal of time, they finally made it past the creature with only a rustle.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief—alerting just one redcap would have brought all of them down on Sirius and him. In their mad bloodlust, protecting their homes, they wouldn't have stopped until either they were dead or Sirius and Harry were.

The brick wall rose high above them, unmarked by sign or writing. They skirted the perimeter but it was solid from all sides—either there was a hidden entrance similar to Saint Mungo's, or there was no entrance or exit to the factory—indeed, they hadn't considered it before, but the factory hardly needed a physical exit to the moor. The workers could just travel to and from the factory through a secure Floo connection or with Portkeys. Sirius had confirmed that an anti-apparition jinx was in place, his spinning only making him nearly fall in the mud and would have if Harry hadn't caught him.

'We could blast a hole.' Sirius pointed his wand at the bricks, an excited look on his face.

'I think they'll notice a stinking great hole in their wall,' Harry frowned, pushing his arm back down.

'We could put it back together?'

'I don't know a thing about construction enchantments and unless you've been hiding it for all these years, I know you don't either.'

'Yeah, yeah, you're right. I'm not happy giving up after that bloody walk though.'

Harry could feel a thought tickling the back of his mind—there was something about the factory that he was forgetting. Checking his pockets in hope while his mind was furiously thinking, his hand hit something hard and smooth. Fishing it out, he opened his hand to find a tiny broomstick with a figurine of himself riding it—Puddlemere had sent him the prototype soon after the game, hoping for Harry to let them honour him by selling them as part of their merchandise. He hadn't replied yet, but the zooming toy sent a shock through his brain, realising what he had—somehow—forgotten.

'Sirius,' he said, startling Sirius from his glaring contest with the wall.

'What? What is it?'

'It's a broom factory.'

'Yes… that's why we're here,' Sirius said slowly, looking at Harry oddly.

'Well, they need to test the brooms, don't they?'

Realisation dawned on his face. 'Right, that's right.'

'So, if we just get up to the roof, they're sure to have some kind of opening.'

'Genius. Did you bring a broom?'

Harry sighed. 'Nope. Would've been riding it this whole time if I had.'

'Banishing charm it is.'

Harry brandished his wand at the ground, sending himself flying into the air to land neatly on top of the roof. Sirius followed behind but didn't clear the edge, winding him as he scrabbled to keep himself from sliding back down. Chuckling, Harry pulled him up, leaving Sirius gasping for air.

'Laugh it up, mate, I'll just die quietly,' he wheezed.

'Just a bit more payback for you laughing at me at Saint Mungo's.'

'I could've sworn you already did that,' he grumbled. Sirius sat up, catching sight of the roof and giving a low whistle. 'Well, what do you know.'

The roof was barely a roof. It only extended inwards for a few metres before it gave way to air, the innards of the factory open to the sky.

'It seems a bit lax in security,' Harry observed, uneasy with the wide-open invitation to enter.

'We just went through a bloody swamp filled with hinkypunks and redcaps and you want more? Go rob Gringotts again if you're that excited.'

'For a person flying on a broom it is.'

'Well, what charms are on this place? There could still be a whole host of protections to get through.'

'You tell me. That's what you're here for, after all.'

Sirius threw Harry a rude hand gesture, but started to circle the opening. Harry could hear his indistinct murmurs as he waved his wand. Harry looked down to see that the inside of the factory was dark, only the occasional gleam of polished wood breaking through as the weak moon hit it just right. Quietly, Harry cast his own spell. 'Hominem Revelio,' he said, hoping that if anyone was here, that they wouldn't be focused enough to feel the vague swooping sensation that accompanied the spell. When there was no reaction from the spell, Harry let out a sigh of relief. Magic was much easier to deal with than unpredictable human guards.

Apparently satisfied with what he'd found, Sirius straightened, once again sending out glowing orbs to illuminate the inside of the factory.

'Well, would you look at those beauties.'

The factory was full of broomsticks, ranging from crudely worked branches to polished masterpieces sitting in their wooden lacquer cases. Harry could practically feel himself salivating at the sight.

Gingerly, Sirius began to lower himself down, his feet high above the floor. He hesitated for a moment, hanging still from the bay doors before wrenching himself back up.

'What, what is it?'

'There's a charm on the floor. Modified Caterwauling, I think. Anything touches the floor; the siren will go off.'

Harry frowned. 'There's no-one here though. And I've never heard of that charm reaching across a few hundred miles.'

'There's ways to transmit sound—our mirrors for example. They probably have something like that set up. What I'm wondering is why it's only on the floor.'

Peering at the dark corners of the factory, Harry noticed a set of glinting eyes staring under leathery wings. Pointing the bat out to Sirius, he said 'I'd say they had one too many false alarms.'

Sirius chuckled. 'They could have just made the roof a hatch.'

'I told you their security was lazy.'

'Hmm, so how are we gonna do this?'

'What, out of ideas again? I got us a way in, didn't I?'

'You'd be redcap stew if it wasn't for me.'

'I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you. I would have been at home, in front of the fire with a bottle of butterbeer, and quidditch on the wireless.'

'Well, hurry up and come up with something so we can go do that. After a very long, warm shower.'

'Alright, alright. We could just summon a few brooms,' Harry joked. Sirius smiled in return but it faded away quickly.

'Why not?' He said thoughtfully, pointing his wand at the finished brooms.

'There's no way…' Harry trailed off as, at his incantation, a broom soared into Sirius' hand. Grinning, he summoned another, pressing it into Harry's hands.

'Check for curses – I'll check the charmwork.'

'You've got to be fucking kidding me…' Harry muttered.

Harry twisted his wand, murmuring as many revealing spells he could remember, running his left hand a hair's breadth from the glossy handle while Sirius identified the enchantments on his broom, his grimy brow furrowed in concentration. Harry had an affinity for curses. He'd always known when curses were near—as a child, even a shadow of a curse would unsettle him and caused tantrums that would last for hours. As he grew, he had developed a sense for where a curse was inhabiting—it had served him greatly during their hunt for the Horcruxes. Albus had provided many explanations for his sensitive feeling—natural disgust, the Horcrux inside his head, or, and most alarming to Harry, he had an affinity for cursework. It had alarmed him so much, he had refused to perform any curse, even in the direst of circumstances.

Sirius' proficiency in charms came from years of living with a child destined to defeat the Dark Lord—in the early days, before Harry could even think about defending himself, he had spent hours devouring books and at every visit, would pester Albus to teach him more protection charms. He had devoted himself to the field, believing it is his best chance of helping Harry. In the end, he hadn't been able to help Harry much, but his spellwork had helped him save the life of Tonks before she could suffer the same fate as her husband.

Harry finished his spells, though his hand remained hovering—there were no curses on the broomstick, but something didn't quite feel right.

'Bastard!' Sirius snarled.

Harry whipped his head around, staring at a livid Sirius.

'Now, we know why these are so fast – they're missing half the safety charms.'

'How is that possible? Surely people would notice?'

'Nobody's gonna check a brand-new broom. And it doesn't matter if they do. He'll spin these for a quick knut, then shut it down before things get out of hand. On to the next money-making scheme.'

'And the only people that know who the owner is are a few ministry employees and the Minister's Office. All it'll take is a cut of the galleons and they'll brush off any complaints made,' Harry said, the scheme dawning on him.

'Exactly. We're lucky the whole team didn't get killed in that game.'

'Let's get out of here. We'll Floo Kingsley back at Grimmauld.'

Sirius nodded, getting to his feet. As he stood, he bumped the broom, causing it to roll of the edge and clatter to the floor. Immediately, the Caterwauling charm began to wail, a loud, piercing klaxon making Harry clamp his hands over his ears.

'Fuck,' Sirius said. 'We need to leave now.'

But Harry was already shaking his head, pointing at the marsh around the factory—redcaps were rising from their holes and rushing through the mud, headlong at the wall. In a matter of seconds, the factory was ringed by a shrieking army of redcaps, alternatively trying to bash the wall in with their clubs or using each other as ladders to scrabble their way to the top. The alarm had quietened, still wailing in the background, but Harry could hear the rush of Floo travel and shouts of alarm as people began to stamp into the factory.

'We can't fight our way out of these things,' Harry shouted, though Sirius could barely hear him over the noise.

'We could banish ourselves over them?'

'We'd kill ourselves. Who knows what we'd land on.'

'What do we do then?'

Harry just held up the broom. Sirius stared at for a moment before silently cursing.

'Oh, we're definitely killing ourselves.'

Harry grinned. 'So little faith, Sirius.'

'Let's get on with it,' Sirius said, as the voices below started to get louder, interspersed with the raw shouts of fury from the redcaps. Harry jumped on the broom, marvelling at the lightness of it, Sirius taking the place behind him. The broom shuddered slightly, but Harry eased it into flight, speeding up more and more. They were quickly swallowed by the darkness, the only evidence that the factory was still there the faint screams of the redcaps beating against the walls.

The broom didn't take long to malfunction—apparently two people was just too much for the broom to handle. Harry glided it down as it began to shudder underneath them, the vibrations nearly jerking his shoulders from their sockets. They landed on a fairly solid patch, Sirius immediately jumping off, throwing a distrustful look at the broom.

'I thought you liked a bit of danger,' Harry laughed.

'Only when I'm doing the dangerous things. That broom is a death-trap and more likely to plough you into the ground than fly.'

'Hmm, I think I'll keep it for our next quidditch game. I need a challenge every now and then.'

Sirius narrowed his eyes at him. 'I'm gonna pretend I didn't hear that,' he growled, before apparating away, leaving Harry chuckling alone.

...

 **12.11am, 10** **th** **January 2001**

 _ **13 Grimmauld Place, London**_

Entering the kitchen, Harry was surprised to find Kingsley already there, brushing soot from his robes. Sirius was seated in his chair, his feet dripping mud onto the table, halfway through a butterbeer. He threw another bottle at Harry, who barely saved it from smashing against the fireplace.

'Cheers. That was quick Kingsley.'

'Sirius let me know you were going tonight, so I thought I'd stay ready just in case.'

'Probably a good idea considering.' Harry tipped his head to Sirius who just took another pull from his bottle, his eyes far away.

'What happened?' Kingsley asked, raising one eyebrow.

'Set off a charm. Had a band of redcaps jumping for our throats.' At Kingsley's concerned look, he added, 'It was fine. Just sloppy from us.'

'I thought we should let someone know whenever we go on a mission. Preferably, Kingsley, or Tonks if it comes to it,' Sirius said, coming out of his reverie.

'Good thinking.'

Kingsley cut in. 'So, what did you find?'

'You were right. They were dodgy,' Harry said, laying the broom on the table.

Kingsley's brows knit together. 'Is that… one of them? You stole one?'

'It may have been important to our escape,' Harry replied, feeling a little silly.

'Trust me Kingsley, I never want to fly that thing again,' Sirius said vehemently.

Confused, Kingsley moved his gaze from the broom to Sirius. 'Why not?'

'It's missing about half the safety charms. That's how they make it fly so fast while cutting the cost.'

Kingsley let out a low whistle. 'So, what's the plan?'

'That depends… How likely is it that the Aurors can pull off a successful investigation against Kanter?' Sirius asked, removing his feet from the table and sitting up straight.

He chuckled ruefully. 'I doubt I can get the Head Auror to sign off on the investigation, much less get a conviction.'

'Guess we'll have to do this the sneaky way then,' Sirius said, a gleam in his eye.

'You've already got a plan,' Harry accused the smug Sirius. 'Well, go on then, spill it.'

'I've been thinking about this since the factory. You know that little quidditch figurine you've got?'

'The one of me?' Harry said, pulling it out of his pocket to let it zoom around the kitchen.

'You're going to that meeting – and no excuses, Potter, you know this would benefit us anyway – and you're going to suggest that they look into their brooms a little further. When they come back with their findings, furious at QuikStik, well, you can point them right at Kanter. Make them leave your name out of it. We don't have the proof to directly accuse him. We can't let him know that we're the ones who stole from his factory after all.'

Harry paused for a moment, processing it—he knew that selling the figurine was important to inflating his public figure, but he couldn't help but feel trepidation. This small step would lead to a spiralling path down into the world of being a celebrity—his every instinct was telling him to turn back and run the other way.

'It's a good plan,' Kingsley added. 'What about you Sirius?'

'I'll be starting my campaign for the empty Wizengamot position.'

'What?' Harry said, startled and uncertain he'd heard him right.

'I'll work with the Minister's office on a few things. Find a few bills that everyone can agree on and push them privately and in the media. While I do that, Harry will pile in on Kanter after Puddlemere, get the public rising up against him. It won't take long for them to throw him out.'

'He's still rich. I don't think they'll be so quick to throw him out.'

'So are we. Besides he's a new member. A little bit of gold doesn't matter so much when the next one up has deeper pockets,' Sirius finished, grinning to himself.

'You might be right,' Harry conceded, though he still had some reservations. _It's a good plan_ ,' Harry thought, _this is what you wanted Potter. Don't back out now_. Harry zoned back in when Kingsley began to talk.

'I don't think it would be too big of a task to leak the reports to the Prophet. The Ministry would be quick to cover their arses then. Might even get a few corrupt inspectors fired,' Kingsley said, his deep voice warming to the idea.

'Now that's what I'm talking about! You worry too much Harry.' Sirius hefted his bottle high, throwing a bottle to Kingsley. He put a hand in his pocket, where Harry saw a light twitch—spying Harry staring, Sirius winked cheerfully. 'I propose a toast to our first success. Today, the moor; tomorrow, the Ministry!' Harry threw his drink back, laughing as Kingsley spluttered, spraying firewhisky all over the table—Sirius' switching spell was a favourite of his.

'To that prank always working,' Harry toasted, taking another swig. Sirius was still laughing too hard to follow suit, while Kingsley was swearing at them.

'Gits,' he said, wiping his mouth. Sighing, he raised his bottle again. 'To firewhisky!'

Harry and Sirius echoed him, raising their own bottles—sure enough, Kingsley had switched their own butterbeer. The shot warmed him to the core, his clothes beginning to dry immediately, so he decided to follow it with another and another. At one point, Sirius brought out a whole bottle, all of them taking turns, flush with their victory, until Harry's vision faded to black. When he woke up the next morning, the bright light making him swear violently, he found the kitchen covered in dirt and a snoring Sirius laid spread-eagled on the table. Kingsley was nowhere to be seen. Straightening from his hunched over sleeping position, he groaned as his headache intensified tenfold. Feeling vindictive, he picked up his wand from where it lay randomly on the floor. Pointing it at Sirius, he said, 'Aguamenti,' a feral grin on his face.

From his boiler room, Kreacher paused in his mutterings as Sirius' high pitched scream reverberated through the house. 'Mistress always said the ungrateful brat would get what he deserved.'


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

 **9.26am, 11** **th** **January 2001**

 _ **Puddlemere United Headquarters, Puddlemere**_

Harry walked into the rich blue carpeted entrance hall, imposing statues staring down at him as he made his way to the desk at the far end. Above his head, an impressive mosaic of gold and blue paint re-enacted famous moments from their history. He could see Joscelind Wadcock scoring the winning goal to secure Puddlemere's 20th championship after one of the greatest comebacks in history—down by more than 600 points heading into the third day, Wadcock regained the lead in just a few hours, putting them 160 points ahead just before the Ballycastle seeker had caught the snitch. It was one of his favourite stories from _Quidditch through the Ages_. After the play looped for the third time, he started, realising he'd paused. Walking forward, he quickened his pace—apart from the swirling mosaic the hall was silent and still, only a bored secretary shuffling papers at the end of the hall. The statues were all frozen in various victory poses, their cool eyes boring into Harry's. As one of the most successful franchises, the number of legendary Puddlemere players enshrined at the hall had made the walk interminably long. He wished he could've snuck in under his invisibility cloak—as he closed in on her, he could see the dawning comprehension on the secretary's face, and there was no way Harry couldn't see her duck lower to adjust her makeup. Sighing, he reached the desk, plastering on a smile.

Before he could utter a word, the secretary stood, fiddling with her robes. 'Mr Potter, I've instructions to take you straight up to Mrs Piddle.' Harry could hear a slight shake in her voice.

'Thank you…' he said, trailing off as he followed her to a door off the side of the desk. When he walked in, he thought he'd stumbled into another building. He found himself in a winding circular staircase made of weathered marble blocks, ornate railing carved with ancient runes curling upwards.

'Oh,' she said, her cheeks pinkening, glancing back down at him. 'I'm Jenny. It's really an honour to meet you, it really is. My little sister, she's the biggest fan. Do you think… do you think I could get your autograph?' At his sceptical look, she hurried on. 'For her, of course, she'd love it,' she said as she led him through another door to a small landing that more closely mirrored the entrance hall. It was sparse, with just a few portraits and busts of famous Puddlemere players, a set of timber double doors taking up nearly an entire wall.

He paused in front of the doors, watching the hopeful girl fidget under his gaze. _Why not_ , he thought, bemusedly signing a scrap of parchment and handing it back to the beaming Jenny.

'She's just through these doors,' she said, almost tripping as she began to backpedal towards the stairs.

'Do I just go in…?' Harry asked but she'd already rushed back down the stairs, leaving him alone. Slightly intimidated, he stared at the doors. Squaring his shoulders, he rapped his knuckles on the door. A faint 'Come in' was called.

Harry pushed the doors open, his lightest touch sending them swinging, Harry barely able to stop them from banging against the wall. He froze, halfway into the room, clutching the runaway doors, face-to-face with an ancient witch, who was seated in a wide wing-backed chair, chuckling at him. Behind her stood a gawky man, robes and hair askew as if he were still on a broomstick. She was seated at the head of a long, polished oak table, the crest of Puddlemere engraved into the centre. Beyond them, the opposite wall from Harry wasn't a wall at all—open air provided a magnificent view of Puddlemere Stadium, an even better view than the one Harry had in the box. _I might've been right about being transported to another_ place, Harry thought. He straightened, stepping into the room fully and letting the doors settle gently behind him. Harry gave Mrs Piddle a small embarrassed nod in greeting.

'Mrs Piddle, it's a pleasure to meet you.'

'You as well, Mr Potter.' She looked him up and down, Harry shifting uncomfortably, feeling like he was a piece of meat at the butchers. 'Hmm, you've certainly got the build for a chaser. Your father was mighty handy as well. How are you on a broom then?'

'Ah, I'm more of a seeker really,' he said, slightly thrown by the direction she was steering the conversation in.

She tilted her head. 'I can see it. Seekers don't need to be so scrawny with the brooms we have now. What do you think, Deverill?'

The windswept man jolted forward, from stock-still to a windmill of motion. 'Absolutely fearless. He's a seeker all day, in my book,' he enthused, bouncing up and down.

'Ah well, it's pointless anyway…,' she paused, considering him. 'Unless you're interested in trying out?'

'For Puddlemere? I… hadn't really thought of it before,' Harry lied because truthfully, it had been his greatest dream up until he was thirteen.

'Hmph, well think of it now, Potter. The offseason is coming and you'll need the whole of it to get up to scratch.'

'Hang on, you've never even seen me fly!'

'You can't teach instinct. You reacted faster than anyone else in the stadium. And you have the bloodline. The Potters could have been one of the greatest Quidditch families there is. Fleamont and Euphemia were one of the greatest pairs of beaters to come through Hogwarts. I tried my best to recruit your father as well.' Deverill nodded along with her, like an excitable puppy.

Harry knew his father had been good, but this information was new to him. 'Why did he turn you down?'

'Why do you think? The bloody war. Half the best prospects went off to fight. Your grandparents were the same with Grindelwald,' she growled.

Harry paused, processing, before he frowned. 'What about Kennington? She's one of the best seekers in the league.'

'I'd appreciate if you kept this to yourself, Potter.' Harry nodded as she paused, searching him. 'She's off-contract at the end of this season and she won't be returning. Not by my bloody choice, let me tell you that. She's become a great seeker with us but the Harpies will get her. They'll be sure to snap her up with the poor run of seekers they've had in recent years. The Harpies always get their pick of the female players, the pandering bastards. So that's why Potter.' Seeing Harry's hesitancy, she took a stab in the dark and continued, explaining herself. 'You're not the only replacement we're looking at Potter. Unfortunately, the talent in the school competitions and the secondary leagues are shite. We're having to get more creative than usual. We're looking at the foreign leagues as well but people are still too scared to make the journey to England after the war.'

'I… thank you… I'll be sure to consider it,' Harry said. An image of him hoisting the quidditch cup flashed through his mind, a remnant of his childhood daydreams.

'Good. Now, onto business. The merchandise using your likeness. Typically, our players get a 25% cut of the profits. We're willing to give you a 50% cut.'

'Wait,' Harry interrupted. 'I'm not interested in the profits – I've a plan that I'd like to put into place and I was wondering if Puddlemere would like to be involved.' Withdrawing a piece of parchment from underneath his robes, he placed it in front of Mrs Piddle, who took a smudged and chipped pair of half-moon glasses from the pocket of her robes and studied the parchment, her pinched face slowly morphing to surprise. 'I'm proposing that the profits be instrumental to establishing the Dumbledore Foundation.'

She glanced at him, before her eyes darted back to the contract. 'It's purpose?' She questioned.

'I know that many people are still struggling to get back on their feet after Voldemort. Left on their own, it will take far longer than I'm willing to allow. The foundation will focus on securing them necessities like housing, food, and most importantly, work that will allow them to look after themselves,' Harry said stiltedly, feeling like he was performing from a script.

'Is it really such a problem?'

'Yes. It's not widely reported but there are quite a number of them. Quite a few people aren't able to do the same job as before because of injuries from the war. Families have lost their homes and have had to resort to settling in the muggle world while they find the money to rebuild – the number of memory charms performed has increased tenfold prior to the number before the war. They've been displaced from our world and left to sink in a world they don't understand,' Harry said, his voice losing that rehearsed tone as he passionately argued his reasons.

By the end of his speech, both Piddle and Deverill were staring at him; Mrs Piddle had an almost calculating look on her face, Mr Deverill looked slightly shell-shocked. 'Leave us, Deverill. I'd like to talk to Mr Potter, witch to wizard.' Deverill quickly escaped, obviously unused to talking about anything outside of the Quidditch pitch.

Harry waited for Mrs Piddle. 'I'm impressed Potter. You've obviously thought this out and if you're information is good, you could be right. I am still… hesitant, however. Forgive me, but you're still a wee lad and an old biddy like me didn't get this organisation to where it is today by banking on dreams.' She paused, shifting in her chair.

'What I'm saying is, there are many things I'd trust you to do, Harry Potter, but run an organisation with this sort of scope without a real talent for it, is something that I don't think Puddlemere can be associated with. The chance this could go to bloody, buggering, shite is just too high.' At Harry's crestfallen look, she quickly continued. 'Now, don't be too discouraged lad. If you come back to me with someone who can run the show and some more proof, I'll be more than willing to sign,' she finished with a smile.

Harry slowly collected the contract, thinking it over. She was right—he'd been foolish. He'd put the snitch before the broomstick and had sought the funding without first establishing a proper plan. Planning to garner a little more goodwill and put their plot against Kanter into motion, Harry decided to move on to the second reason he wanted to attend today's meeting.

'You said you were hesitant to believe my information?' When she nodded in acquiescence, he continued. 'What has your investigation into Kennington's accident uncovered?'

Frowning, she replied. 'The Ministry is handling the official investigation.'

'And unofficially?'

She looked at him over her half-moon glasses and Harry was transported back to his lessons with Albus, when he'd made some bone-headed mistake that only required Albus' stare to scold him.

'If you're volunteering for the job Potter, I don't want anything to do with it. Go sign up to be an Auror.'

'That's not… I just meant…'

'Puddlemere takes care of its own. And despite my offer, you aren't one of us yet.'

Harry's face burned from the abrasive witch's retort. 'I just want to give you some information.'

A beat – 'Go on.'

'Bring in a Master Charmer – have them check all the brooms you acquired from QuikStik.'

She nodded slowly. 'I'll consider it. Anything else?'

'Only the name of QuikStik's owner – Ernest Kanter, a member of the Wizengamot. I'll be happy to give you more information about him should you require it.'

She peered at him, searching his face. 'You're an odd one Potter.'

Shaking his head ruefully, Harry rose from his seat, heading for the door. 'Good day, Mrs Piddle. I'll be in touch. About the Foundation and the… other.' Harry left, leaving a deeply perplexed Mrs Piddle, gazing through the glass wall.

Signalling goodbye to a hovering Mr Deverill, he chuckled when he heard a sharp voice call out. 'Deverill! Get your arse back in here.' The man blanched, rushing his goodbye to Harry and bolting back into the room.

Pleased that the meeting was over and he was out from underneath the gaze of the coarse old witch, his mind turned once again to what he'd been suppressing the whole meeting. Excitement rose as he thought about the possibility of playing for Puddlemere. Slowly descending the stairs, he paused when a flicker of colour caught his eye. Rushing to keep pace on the way up, he hadn't bothered to look out the windows. Now, he stared out the window to the training pitch, marvelling at the Puddlemere players as they rocketed through their drills—quaffles, bludgers, and presumably snitches, though he couldn't see them, were everywhere. The players were nothing more than blurs, zooming through the air, twisting and rolling to dodge the bludgers, pitching quaffles one after the other at the darting Keeper, Oliver Wood. Up high, circling the swarm of activity, Harry could see Kennington. She swooped and swerved, racing in and out of bludgers and players alike, every now and then holding aloft a clenched hand sprouting feebly beating wings. His hands itched, suddenly longing for a broom. _I could do that,_ Harry thought. _I could be out there_.

 **9.58am, 12** **th** **January 2001**

 _ **Hogsmeade, Highlands, Scotland**_

Harry knocked carefully on the brightly painted blue door. He could hear the faint sounds of children's laughter drifting from the backyard. It was quaint, as all the houses in Hogsmeade were. The cottage was shaded by the edge of the Forbidden Forest, though Harry could feel the protections restricting access from either direction. _Sirius said it wasn't particularly dangerous anyway_ , Harry mused. _Well, apart from the giant acromantulas._

The door sprung open. 'Mr Potter!' Esmeralda beamed at him, the children's cries immediately rising in volume.

'Harry, please,' he said, trying to spy the children behind her.

'Oh, of course, Harry.' She ushered him in, keeping him penned in the foyer filled with tiny shoes, bags, and toys. 'I wanted to keep it a surprise so I didn't tell them you were coming. They're just through here,' she said, quietly leading him into an expansive kitchen with a collapsible wall. The wall had been taken down, showing off the humungous garden over which children of all sizes were scrambling.

'What do you want me to do?' Harry asked, feeling rather nervous.

'Well,' she said, drawing it out with pursed lips. 'You could just play with them. There's always room for one more. Here,' she said, pulling a rack of cooling biscuits from the bench and piling them on a plate. 'Take this out and introduce yourself. The children will give you something to do.'

Harry walked out into the morning light—it was a rare sunny day for January—carefully placing the platter on the picnic table. It was only a few seconds before they saw him, and more importantly, the biscuits, a rousing cheer ringing out through the garden. Most of them rushed towards the table, though a few eyed Harry warily, glancing towards the nodding Esmeralda before walking forwards. Unsure, Harry rocked on his heels, not knowing how to introduce himself as they fell ravenously on the food. With Teddy, it had been easy. Teddy had already known who he was, with Tonks there to break the ice. Taking on a scrum of boisterous children all by himself was a completely different experience. Luckily, it was taken out of his hands when a particularly bold boy, and who looked like one of the oldest there, stalked up to him and questioned, 'Who are you?' positioning himself almost protectively in front of the others.

Smiling, Harry stretched out a hand. The young boy paused before grasping his hand a quick shake. 'My name's Harry Potter. What's yours?' The children stopped, wide eyes suddenly staring at Harry.

'You're Harry P..P..Potter?' the boy asked in awe.

Harry just brushed his hair back, letting his scar show. Several wows could be heard, and even a blimey. Harry grinned as several of the children scooted closer though they were still too shocked to talk.

'How come you're here?' the boy asked after a few moments of silence.

'Well, Mrs Prewett was wondering if you guys would like hang out with me for the day.'

'Really?'

'Really, really.'

When the children exploded in chatter, Harry laughed, trying his best to keep up with the questions they were asking him. Deciding it was better to tire them out before they bombarded him with questions for hours, he signalled them to quiet down.

'Hey, hey, hey, slow down. Listen, why don't we leave the stories until later? When we're all a bit tired? Now, what was that game you were playing? You're gonna have to go easy on me.'

The boy, who seemed to have been elected their unofficial spokesperson, lit up. 'Seekers, Bludgers, and Snitches.' He puffed up in importance and Harry had to hide his grin, nodding seriously along with his explanation. 'There's three teams. The Seekers have to tag all the Snitches while the Bludgers have to tag all the Seekers. The game ends when all the Seekers are out or all the Snitches are out.'

'Right,' Harry said. 'How do I know who's on my team?'

Carlin held out his hand, a black ribbon tied around it. 'Mrs Prewett gives them to us. Black is Bludgers, red is Seekers, and yellow is Snitches.'

Harry twirled his wand, a yellow ribbon flowing around his wrist. 'So… who's gonna catch me?' Harry said, before sprinting away into the garden, bedlam erupting behind him as the children scattered. Harry barely lasted a minute before he was tripped over by an outstretched hand, a little girl giggling from her hiding place underneath a waving Flutterby bush.

'I got you!' she squealed, with gap-toothed grin. 'I got Harry Potter!'

Harry just laid back on the thick grass and laughed.

…

Harry had a marvellous day playing with the children—he found himself losing often, their screams of laughter and pride warming his chest. After a quick lunch of roast beef sandwiches, they gathered around Harry on the porch as he weaved the most exciting tales he could think of—sensibly, editing out any of the more gruesome details. Despite how much he was enjoying his time with the children, it was still missing something—in the midst of their clamouring for just one more game, one more story, there was a small voice missing. Harry would catch himself looking around, panicking for a moment before he realised— _he's not here_ , he told himself. _He's back home, with his mother, and his grandmother. He's fine_.

Harry couldn't shake it though. Towards the end of the day, his mood began to drop. He knew Esmeralda was shooting him concerned looks but he avoided her, choosing to throw himself back into whatever activity the children cooked up next.

…

'I hope they didn't tire you out too much,' she said.

It was late evening. Harry had just endured a procession of parents as they came to pick up their children, their exclamations of surprise and awe drowned out by the memory of Tonks whispering the insults these same people had directed towards Teddy.

'No, no, they were great,' Harry protested, though he could feel her watching him again. His shoulders bunched beneath his shirt. He knew he was furious and he really didn't want her to set him off.

'Their parents I meant.'

Harry mustered a strained smile. 'That easy to tell?'

'Oh, no dear, you're just… you're very good with the children… and you're very reserved with the adults,' she paused, looking stricken. 'I didn't mean anything by it, Mr Potter.'

'It's fine, it's fine, Esmeralda,' he reassured, waving her down. 'And it's Harry remember. I'm just a bit tired. I think I need to head off.'

'Please do. You shouldn't feel obliged to stay for so long. This is really…' she paused, her eyes getting a little shiny. 'You were fantastic today Harry, thank you so much. I really didn't expect this.'

Slightly alarmed, Harry patted her on the shoulder. 'Well,' he said, clearing his throat. 'Don't worry about it, it was my pleasure. I had a great time today.'

A brief expression of indecision crossed her face, before she grabbed Harry in a quick hug, releasing him before he could respond. 'You'll always be welcome here, Harry Potter. We'd love to have you again.'

'Right, I will,' Harry said, a little embarrassed. However, in the back of his mind, all he could hear was a snide voice saying _'You might be welcome here, but your family isn't.'_ Tamping down on his anger, he hurriedly exchanged his final goodbyes with Esmeralda, spilling out of her home and onto the dark street.

Harry breathed in deeply, the brisk air cooling his rushing blood. Before him, stood Hogsmeade, yellow lamps on every corner lighting up the snow-dusted rooftops, the streets bare apart from the few stragglers walking home from the Three Broomsticks, the town nearly asleep. He turned around, looking behind the cottage, to the Forbidden Forest, only visible as a black mass jotting out the stars. The Forest was just beginning to come awake, the soft calls of owls, the crackling of twigs, the creaking of branches—perhaps it was his imagination, but Harry wagered he could hear the muted roars, growls, and howls of the more murderous forest inhabitants just at the edge of his hearing.

 _This is where they think Teddy belongs_ , he thought, his ire spiking once again. _With the feral animals_. _I won't let that happen_. _I'm going to ask Esmeralda to let him in. If they have a problem with that, they'll have to deal with me_ , Harry thought with satisfaction, the prospect of bringing down any bigots he might encounter raising his spirits. _I just have to get Tonks to agree. Fuck. I have to get Tonks to agree._

 **10.30am, 13** **th** **January, 2001**

 _ **Little Whinging, Surrey**_

'So, quidditch?'

'Yeah,' Harry said, as he pushed a squealing Teddy higher, the muggle push-swing almost tipping upside down. 'If I'm good enough they want to spend the whole offseason coaching me up.'

'Wow. Where's my invitation then?' Tonks asked, crossing her arms, a move made ridiculous by her very woolly jumper because she ended up looking very fluffy rather than intimidating.

'Your invitation?' Harry said, smothering his grin.

'Yes, my invitation. I seem to remember beating you just the other day.'

'You cheated,' Harry chuckled.

'That's part of Quidditch! It's only cheating if you get caught.'

'I caught you though.'

'It's only cheating if the ref catches you,' she amended, grinning mischievously.

'Lucky there was no ref then.'

'Well, you've got to adapt to the situation Harry. Blimey, we've got a lot of work to do if you're gonna be ready for this try-out.'

'Harry, Harry, stop! Wanna get off!' Teddy shouted.

Harry's hands chafed against the cold chains as the push-swing ground to a stop, letting Teddy clamber off and run to the slide. Harry watched as he clambered up the peeling metal slide. They were spending the morning in a muggle park filled with creaking equipment and dead grass, alone apart from the cars that cruised by periodically.

Without turning to Tonks, he felt himself spilling his worries. 'I just… I feel bad. I've hardly seen Sirius these last few days and I want to go play quidditch? I can't just leave it all in Sirius' hands.'

'You know it's not just you two anymore. Other people can help. Other people do want to help. Do you know, I've had more Order member's drop by for tea in the last week than the whole of the previous year. They want to help you, Harry, so let them. No more of this wait and see shite. Give them some work, missions, anything. Just telling them to wait and watch isn't useful to anyone.'

Harry breathed deeply, attempting to relax, to uncoil the tension he felt.

'You've got this thing in your mind where you have to save everyone by yourself or with as few people involved as possible but you don't. Do you want to end up like Dumbledore? He did it all by himself and look what happened? He never got a break. You don't have to do that. Do what makes you happy,' Tonks almost pleaded, her hand tight around Harry's bicep.

'You've made your point, Tonks,' Harry sighed, though he couldn't help his smile, feeling his spirits start to lift.

She mock-pouted. 'Oh, already? I've got a whole speech ready to go.'

'Ha ha.' Harry said, waving at Teddy who was shouting excitedly from the top of the monkey bars.

'I'm serious Harry. I'll kick your arse whenever you need me to.'

Harry snorted. 'Like you could.'

Tonks ignored him. 'Maybe I need a title – Harry Potter's Life Coach – ooh, or maybe Grand Adviser,' she mused. She wriggled her eyebrows at him. 'I know a good one – Harry Potter's Confidante.'

Harry's cheeks burned. 'You are far too big for your boots.'

'Don't you worry Harry! You'll never put a foot wrong with me here to guide you,' she said enthusiastically, pushing him onwards as Teddy worked further and further away from them, intent on trying out everything.

'Tonks,' Harry groaned, covering his face with his hands. 'Please, stop.'

'Oh fine, you big baby. Teddy's got more ticker than you I think.'

'You're not wrong,' Harry said, watching Teddy as he scampered to the slightly squeaking merry-go-round, jumping onto it to send it spinning slowly.

'Harry! Mum! Come push me,' Teddy called, pulling impatiently on the hand-holds.

'Okay, okay, I'm coming,' Harry laughed, making his way to the merry-go-round, Tonks taking up position on the other side. Just as Harry began to push, Tonks jumped on, Harry grunting in surprise.

'Mum!' Teddy squealed.

'Come on Harry, I want a go too,' she smiled mischievously. She started chanting 'push', Teddy quickly following her lead, jumping up and down with a big smile.

Harry shook his head but started pushing, heaving the merry-go-round until they were just two blurs in his vision and a rush of sound as the air distorted their cheers. The merry-go-round began to slow and Harry prepared himself, timing it as he best could. He ran forward, jumping but too late, careening into Tonks who laughed in surprise. They tumbled to the floor, Tonks unable to stop laughing, Harry groaning as he knocked his head against the railing, unsure whether the spinning was inside his head or outside it. He let out another muffled groan when two seconds later, Teddy scrambled underneath the railing, his little body jumping on them both.

'Who's the clumsy one now, hey Teddy?' Tonks teased, her cheeks still flushed from laughter.

'Uncle Harry, Uncle Harry!' He chanted in Harry's ear, nearly deafening him.

Harry spun around, grabbing the little boy around his stomach, his fingers digging into his ribs as he began to tickle him. 'Watch who you're messing with you little scamp,' he said as Teddy giggled. Harry let out a yell of surprise, letting go of Teddy in the process, when icy cold fingers touched his own ribs, Tonks attacking him from behind.

'C'mon Teddy, let's make him pay,' Tonks ordered and they fell on a protesting Harry as he desperately tried to fold his arms across his midsection. He thought they would look rather silly to any muggles driving past. Which was good. Even after being raised by Sirius, he didn't think he'd ever had so much fun than with Teddy and Tonks in the last few weeks.

He coloured as Tonks got some fingers under his jumper, her cold fingers searing Harry's skin. Feeling his cheeks begin to burn, he quickly rolled away, beginning to wrestle with Teddy. He really didn't need to feel like that right now.

 **5.23pm, 15** **th** **January 2001**

 _ **12 Grimmauld Place, London**_

'Reginald Cattermole,' the weedy man said, freckles covering his pale face, pumping Harry's arm furiously. 'But you can just call me Reg, like everyone else. Don' know how to thank ya, Mr Potter.'

'It's alright, Reg.'

'As soon as ya blokes said you needed help, I knew I had to help. Never let it be said that a Cattermole doesn't pay his debts. Least that's what the wife says. She doesn't take a shine to ungratefulness, no sirree, nope she's a good un.'

'That's good to know, Reg,' Harry said, irritated by Sirius' poor attempt at hiding his snickering.

'Yup, like I said I knew I had to help. I might be only a Magical Maintenance worker but ol' Reg knows a thing or too,' he said, tapping the side of his prominent nose. 'I may not be very good with my wand but I'm a great listener. Wife told me that. Bless her soul.'

Harry clenched his teeth and attempted to ignore a now tomato red Sirius, his hand clamped firmly over his mouth. Mercifully, Reg continued his monologue, almost glazing over as he appeared to recite the story from heart.

'When I'm fixing up these poncey bastards' offices, they don't give one damn that I'm around. I'm like a house-elf to them. So, they don't always take care what they're saying.'

Reg had Harry's full attention now. Leaning forward, he asked, 'Like what? What are they saying?'

'A lot of it is just complaining, ya'know - my house-elf is lazy, this law is a disgrace, this magical maintenance bloke is an idiot - ya'know, a load of nonsense. But sometimes, oho, sometimes they say some interesting stuff,' he said, rubbing his hands together.

'Well, come on Reg, out with it then,' Harry said impatiently.

Reg opened his mouth to reply, before suddenly pausing, his eyes focused above Harry's head.

'Reg? You okay?' Harry questioned, the slightest hint of unease colouring his tone.

Reg remained frozen except for the slightest twitch of his pointer finger. Harry swapped a look of concern with Sirius. Slowly, Reg began to move his hand, disappearing underneath his robes. 'Reg?' Harry asked, peering into his eyes. They were dull and cloudy, like cataracts had covered his eyes. 'Shit. Sirius!' Harry called in alarm as Reg pulled his wand out, whipping it around to point at Harry, opening his mouth to cast a spell. Sirius reacted instantly, jumping on him and pulling him to the ground in a clatter of chairs. Sirius wrapped his arms and legs around him, pinning his arms to his sides. Harry pushed himself out of his chair, scrabbling at Reg's clenched fist, trying to remove his wand, but Reg's fingers were curled around his wand like iron. Pulling his own wand, he shouted, 'Petrificus Totalus.'.

'Protego!' Reg hissed, his voice containing a startling ferocity though his eyes retained the same dull, cloudy blankness.

'Damn it.' Harry conjured a rag, stuffing it into his mouth. The veins on Reg's temple bulged and the muscles in his jaw clenched and unclenched as his face slowly turned red. Pulling back, Harry brandished his wand once again, shooting another Petrificus Totalus spell at him. With a twitch of his wand, Reg cast another shield charm, blocking Harry's spell completely.

'Fucking hell, Harry,' Sirius cursed, his voice strained. 'You're gonna have to do it. I can't hold him much longer.'

Harry cursed, his voice cracking under the pressure. _I don't want to fucking do this_. But Sirius couldn't hold him for much longer. Pointing his wand down with a trembling hand, he looked into Reg's contorted face. 'Imperio,' he intoned, feeling power surge through his wand. He gasped as he felt himself fall into Reg's mind, like he'd jumped into a pool of water so cold it seared his skin and boiled his blood. He couldn't describe what it looked like, only what he felt—the shadowy cobwebs creeping through Reg's mind, ripping and tearing at him like a Venomous Tentacula, poisoning Reg's mind against Harry. Feeling Harry's presence, they turned to him, multiplying the pain he already felt. Harry met them head on, ripping them to pieces as they tried to keep their stranglehold on Reg's mind. He dove further in, using brute strength to tear the writhing cobwebs out, brushing every nook and cranny of Reg's conscious. In the back of his mind, he worried that this brutal battle would hurt Reg, but he had no choice—he needed to destroy every last bit of the malicious mind or Reg would never be free. It felt like an age, but it had only been a few seconds before Harry gained control, the last of the curse extinguished from his mind only to be replaced by Harry's. Harry felt a moment of complete power, of outright certainty he could bend Reg to his will on a whim before he immediately relinquished the curse, coming back to himself and collapsing to the floor as Reg moaned turning onto his side and spewing, narrowly missing Sirius' head.

…

'It was strong, whoever cast it,' Harry said, accepting a drink from Sirius, taking a quick sip to calm his still shaking fingers and remove the dark shadows that were clogging up his mind. Sirius, Kingsley, and Professor McGonagall were seated with him, Madam Pomfrey having been enlisted to put Reg to rest in one of their bedrooms upstairs. 'Not a lot of finesse, none really. Just blunt power. That's why he was able to resist slightly.'

'Could you explain, Mr Potter?' McGonagall asked, her voice faintly horrified. 'I don't possess much knowledge of the Imperius Curse beyond the basics.'

Sirius cut in, his voice dark. 'It takes more than strength to cast a good Imperius. You need to be convincing – a snake. Bellatrix could cast a strong one. She was so strong, she could make you cut your own family to pieces. But someone with finesse, like say, Lucius Malfoy… well, he could make you enjoy it. Voldemort was the same.'

'I don't understand why?' Kingsley said, staring deep into the fire, his mind far away. 'They had a chance to get information with us being none the wiser? Why risk that on a ham-fisted assassination attempt?'

'It doesn't make sense. Which could be much worse,' Sirius said.

'Worse?' McGonagall asked, her brow furrowed.

'We could be dealing with madness.'

'Why would it be worse?'

'Mad people aren't going to care about anything but their own twisted logic making them unpredictable and a whole lot bloodier,' Sirius finished scornfully, sweeping disgusted eyes around Grimmauld Place.

McGonagall remained silent after that, all of them mulling over their thoughts to the hiss and pop of the fire.

Harry roused himself. 'They could have panicked?' He suggested half-heartedly, greeted by morose silence, no-one daring to bring themselves to hope. Harry sighed, rubbing his fingers over his eyes, feeling the alcohol roil within him—no longer a pleasant feeling, it burned in his gut, slowly eating away at his skin.

McGonagall commiserated with them silently for another few minutes before leaving through the fire, citing paperwork to be done, though not before extracting a promise from Harry to come visit soon. Kingsley followed shortly after, saying he needed some sleep, though Harry guessed he was heading for the Ministry—Reg's predicament had rattled him and Harry wouldn't be surprised if he was going to backtrack Reg's steps from the last week.

'I'm sorry, Harry.' Harry glanced at Sirius to find him watching him in concern, his face drooping like his animagus.

'Don't be. It needed to be done,' Harry replied in a clipped tone.

'Don't say that. I know how much it meant to you, kiddo.'

Sirius soft words almost undid Harry, and he struggled to keep his composure. 'I never thought… I mean, I hadn't needed to during the war, I didn't think I would ever need to,' he said, his voice scratchy. 'My head… it feels like he's back.'

'He's not, you know that, mate? That battle's already been fought.'

'I know he isn't. But it felt like I was back in his mind all over again. I felt like him again.' Harry shuddered, unable to contain the first sob.

'C'mere, mate.' Sirius shifted seats, pulling Harry's head to his shoulder and rubbing his back, his hands warm against Harry's clammy skin. 'You did a good thing. You did a good thing.'

'Fuck,' Harry spluttered, pressing his face into Sirius shoulder, trying in vain to stop the slow and steady stream of tears now leaking from his screwed-up eyes.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

 **8.46am, 17** **th** **January 2001**

 _ **12 Grimmauld Place, London**_

Harry walked into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes. Sirius was wolfing down a plate of bacon and eggs, grease dripping onto the stack of papers he was pouring over. Harry sleepily grunted a greeting, Sirius returning it with his mouth full.

He swallowed, glancing at Harry before returning to the papers. 'Have you got anyone for the Foundation yet?'

Harry paused, slowly waking up. 'No. I asked around the Order but everyone's too busy. Do you think McGonagall would do it?' he said, as he dished up his own plate, slumping into the seat opposite.

'Same problem. She's not about to retire. The old gal will die at Hogwarts.'

'The old gal?'

'We're very close,'

Harry shook his head. 'This is impossible. Where am I going to find someone we trust to do this?'

Sirius looked up, rubbing his freshly shaven chin. 'Andromeda might be able to handle it?'

'Asked her as well. I think she'd like to be involved somehow, maybe helping taking care of the children or their homes, but she wasn't interested in running the show. She doesn't really have the experience Piddle's looking for either.'

Sirius' face slowly morphed into a look of excitement. 'I know who you can ask.'

'Who?'

'Molly Weasley.'

'Sirius…'

'No, listen, Molly is a very capable witch. I know, I know, she didn't want to get involved, but this is different. Molly will want to help. And to be honest…' A little guilt creeped into a Sirius' expression. 'It would be good for her. She's been pretty lost since Arthur passed.'

Harry peered at Sirius in suspicion. 'Alright, who have you been talking to?'

'Only Bill.' When Harry began to get angry, Sirius quickly continued. 'Just at Gringotts. We saw each other and decided to catch up. I swear Harry, I wasn't recruiting him behind your back.'

Harry slumped, his anger leaving him. 'Sorry, sorry. It's just… they've already lost enough. Especially Mrs Weasley.'

'I know,' Sirius said, tapping the back of Harry's head with his knuckles. 'You can't force them not to fight though. Mark my words, one day Bill will want to join. The rest will follow. We were lucky to keep the twins out of it last time.'

Harry groaned, the worry mixing with dread beginning to pool in his gut, causing him to push his breakfast away.

'Tonks had a chat with me too. Well, she might have shouted at me a bit. Said we couldn't use people as a cheering squad. We had to actually let them help.'

'I know. She already said no though.'

'This is different.'

'You really believe this is any different? We're all over the Foundation.'

'Maybe,' Sirius shrugged. 'I still think you should ask her. Bill tells me she doesn't get out of the house much at all anymore. Said she's wasting away in there. They try to help but she's too attached to the memories. Molly was always her happiest when she's taking care of people. I never told you but I may have butt heads with her a few times.'

'Really? What about?'

'You. She didn't know much but she knew enough that we weren't going to just keep you hidden until after the war. Had a few choice words for Albus about it.'

'I would've liked to have seen that,' Harry laughed, an image of Dumbledore being scolded like a schoolboy flashing through his mind.

'I don't think I appreciated it much at the time considering I was after him.'

'How'd you get her to leave it be?'

'Who else? Arthur. Always Arthur. She was never happy about it though.'

'How much did the Order know? I know you briefed them before I joined but what did they know in years before that? While I was training?'

'Not much. We told them you were in hiding for your protection and being educated by private tutors. I don't doubt a few of them were thinking the same thing Molly thought.'

'What about Arthur? What did he think?'

'I think he trusted us that it was necessary. The only thing he ever asked is if you were happy.'

Harry exhaled, his breath coming out in a hiss. 'Bloody hell. It's too early for this.'

'You got that right,' Sirius said, scrubbing the grease from his lips. 'I'm off to the Ministry. I think you should ask Molly. She at least deserves the opportunity.'

Harry paused, considering. 'I'll ask. I'm not going to push her though.'

'Good. You should check with Minerva anyway. She was asking you to come visit Hogwarts.'

* * *

 **9.12am, 17** **th** **January 2001**

 _ **Hogwarts, Scotland**_

'Hello Professor. It's good to see you again. And Hogwarts finally,' Harry greeted at the gates, the bulk of Hogwarts rising up above him. He felt an urge to get on his broom and fly through the battlements, buzzing around the castle like a fly.

Professor McGonagall watched him with something akin to pride on her features. 'Good afternoon Mr Potter. I must say it is wonderful to see you here, even though it is many years too late.'

'I feel like I'm coming home after all the stories I've heard.'

McGonagall smiled at him a little sadly. 'You would have been another fine student, after your parents I'm sure. I was always very disappointed you wouldn't get to play Quidditch for Gryffindor, much to Severus' amusement.'

'How do you know I would have been in Gryffindor? I'm sure Snape would have loved to have me in Slytherin,' Harry said, directing a cheeky grin at McGonagall.

McGonagall let a dry chuckle escape. 'Severus would have threatened to burn the hat before he let you in Potter.'

'Maybe so,' Harry laughed. Snape had gone missing during the final battle, sometime after Dumbledore had fallen. Harry wasn't sure if he'd scarpered or if he'd been obliterated during the battle. Sirius had said good riddance and Harry hadn't cared in the aftermath but walking along the sunlit green, he wondered what his fate had been.

'I have been meaning to talk to you, Potter. I have a problem that I was wondering if you could help me with,' McGonagall said, her eyes on the gleaming castle.

'Of course, Professor.'

'Before Sirius was acquitted at his trial, you were taken care of by your muggle family,' she said, distaste turning the words sour.

'The Dursleys,' Harry said quietly.

'Yes. I'm sure Sirius has told you about their… attitude. Albus and I were hard-pressed to keep him from attacking them when we went to pick you up.'

'Sirius told me about it.'

'Well – I worry about what others we may be missing. Orphans are well cared for in the wizarding world. There is always a family member, no matter how distant, to take them into their care. Even if there isn't, many older couples will take orphans in. After the war, I worry about the muggleborn or half-blood orphans who have been taken in by muggles like the Dursley's.'

'Do you think it's likely?' Harry asked, a gnawing worry eating into his belly.

'I don't think so, no. But I've lived far too long to not worry about it. I don't know how Albus did it sometimes. Although, he had far more faith in people than I do,' she said, conjuring a handkerchief to dab her welling eyes, Harry too late to offer his own.

He cleared his throat. 'Do you have a list of names and addresses?'

'I have the names of every magical child but I only have the addresses of the children who will turn eleven. The tracking charms don't come into effect until they are required.'

Harry cast his eyes over the choppy lake, a lazy tentacle sprouting skywards before coming back down in an almighty splash. 'It should be enough. It's generally easier to find people in the muggle world.'

'I'm probably overreacting but…'

Harry shook his head. 'I'll do this personally – we owe it to them.'

Professor McGonagall patted him on the arm, her paper-thin fingers belying their wiry strength. 'Thank you, Mr Potter. Please, feel free to contact me if you need any help. As always, Hogwarts is open to you and Mr Black.'

Harry nodded, already calculating what he'd need to do to find all of the at-risk students.

'Was there something else you needed today? I was under the impression you had something to ask me?'

Harry had been going to ask if Professor McGonagall would have the time to attend to the Foundation but it was apparent she was already far too busy. 'No, its fine. I just wanted to take a look around.'

'Very well. I'll leave you to explore. Sirius has no doubt lent you a certain piece of magic I would have been happy to never see enter these halls again.' Harry gave a rueful smile while McGonagall shook her head with pursed lips. 'I'm sure Hagrid would appreciate a visit as you leave as well.'

'I'll make sure to look in on him.'

'You do that. Good day, Mr Potter. I'll send you any information you may need.'

They parted ways, Harry slowly circling Hogwarts as it loomed over him. Now he was here, his mouth was rather dry. This was where his parents met and fell in love. Where Sirius and Remus had met their family. Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew a weathered piece of parchment, unfolding it carefully. With trembling fingers, he tapped his wand to the page and breathed, 'I solemnly swear I am up to no good.' Black lines spiderwebbed from the tip, crawling across the page to form walls, towers, classrooms, and people.

'Bloody brilliant.'

* * *

 **4.02pm, 17** **th** **January 2001**

 _ **The Burrow, Devon**_

'Hello?'

Harry's call was unanswered, the Burrow remaining silent save the slightly creaking timber from the wind. It had been a rather imposing sight, stacked higgledy-piggledy on the small hill, blocking out the sun as Harry tramped up the road. The yard was still, an old shed falling into disrepair to the side of the house, only flickers of gnomes as they tumbled from bush to bush. Harry hadn't quite been able to suppress a shudder, the sharp-toothed, sack-like creatures reminding him of his last encounter with redcaps.

Harry frowned as he knocked again, uneasiness creeping up on him. He'd sent a letter asking to visit and had received a cheerful note back, inviting him over this afternoon. He glanced around, slipping his wand from his pocket, the peaceful yard turning sinister in its silence. Debating whether to just leave or entering the house to make sure Mrs Weasley was alright, he sidled around the house, his eyes flicking to and fro, searching for anything out of the ordinary. The other side of the house opened up to an orchard, stout apple trees haphazardly coating the horizon. Nothing appeared to be amiss to Harry but his apprehension continued to grow.

Harry started as an enraged bellow echoed from the upper stories of the house, followed by a drum beat of clanking metal and a low, raspy groaning. His heart thudding, he tore open the door, rushing through the kitchen and up the stairs, scattering the clutter as he barged through. His thighs burning, the noise only grew louder as he pounded up the winding staircase. He entered the final landing, breathing heavily, searching for where the noise was coming from. He had to fight the urge to hold his hands over his ears—the clanking sounded like it was coming from everywhere.

Then, all at once, it was gone, replaced by an irate voice.

'That is enough of that. Do you want me to let the twins use their test products on you again? You stay quiet or I'll move you out to Arthur's shed. Don't make me come back up here.'

Harry collapsed against the wall, still a little out of breath, as relief flooded through him. Mrs Weasley was fine. _But who was she talking too_ , he thought in confusion. The trapdoor above him opened up, a rickety ladder descending, followed by Mrs Weasley. He was dismayed—he'd noticed she'd seemed a bit frailer at their Christmas Party but she'd also been rugged up at the time. Without her coat or what must have been a couple of sweaters, she was thin, very thin, and her skin had the sickly tinge of someone who spent far too much of their time inside. She turned, her weary face startled by Harry, throwing a hand to her chest.

'My goodness Harry, where did you come from?'

'I'm sorry, I heard the noise and thought…'

'Oh dear, I'm terribly sorry about that, he's been a terrible bother lately with the house so quiet.'

'Um… He?'

'The ghoul dear.' At Harry's surprised look, she continued. 'Yes, a ghoul, a wedding present from Arthur's brother Bilius. Very superstitious that man, said it would grant protection for the house. Of course, since Arthur's been gone, the ghoul's gone a bit wonky.' A pause. 'Why don't we go down to the kitchen. Would you like some tea?'

'That'd be good, thanks Mrs Weasley.'

'None of that, its Molly remember,' she said sternly, wagging a bony finger at him.

'Of course, Molly,' Harry said, chastised.

'You've been busy, haven't you? I saw you in the Prophet at the Ministry ball.' She sighed a little dreamily. 'It looked beautiful. They were always such drab things when Arthur and I went.'

'Unfortunately, the decorations couldn't make up for the drab company,' Harry said.

'I'm sure they were perfectly interesting,' she scolded him. 'Compared to you and Sirius, you must see everyone else's lives as dreadfully boring.'

'I wouldn't mind boring to be honest Molly,' Harry said, smiling.

She raised an eyebrow at him as she waved her wand at the teapot and began assembling their cups. 'Hmph, you sound like my Arthur. He spent all his time trying to get blown up by his muggle toys.' Behind her, multiple vegetables floated from the pantry, an assortment of knives beginning to slice, chop, and dice them.

He chuckled. 'I'll stay away from electricity I promise.'

She made a face, pouring the water into the mugs and setting them on the table before perching herself on the seat. Harry was reminded of his Aunt Petunia, who he had visited several times to ensure they were well protected. It looked wrong on Mrs Weasley—the pose was meant for bitter old women who had nothing to entertain themselves but the misery of others.

'My two youngest have been telling me about your foray into Quidditch as well. They were very excited. I think Ginny's convinced you'll be playing one day,' she chattered on, sipping carefully from her cup.

'She plays, doesn't she?' Harry asked, feeling curious.

'She's a chaser for the Holyhead Harpies,' Molly said proudly.

'Does she enjoy it?'

'Yes. She's always been a bit of a tomboy growing up with six brothers. Whatever makes her happy.'

'It doesn't scare you?'

Molly sighed, tinged with bitterness. 'Bill was a cursebreaker and Charlie works with dragons. I learnt early on that disapproving wouldn't do a thing. The best I can do is make sure they always have another option.'

'Like marriage? Bill's certainly settled down,' Harry joked, feeling his face heat up as Molly studied him, her gaze a little too calculating for his taste.

'Hmm, well, Ginny says she won't be getting married for a long time yet. I don't think she'd say no to a date however,' Molly finished with a sly smile.

Harry heated even further, his collar getting a little tight. He opened his mouth, searching for a way to deflect the conversation politely but was spared as Molly gave a small giggle.

'Oh, I'm sorry Harry. Andi's been telling me that you're very fun to tease.'

'Andi,' Harry said, clutching at the lifeline. 'You talk to Andi?'

Molly sobered a bit, her eyes flicking to the window looking out at the worn-down shed. 'We talk from time to time. After the war – well, we both lost something that others can't quite understand.'

Harry struggled to keep down his tea, a pit of grief for Molly and Andi pulsing in his gut. 'Of course,' he said a little shakily. He almost decided to not ask her then but he remembered what Sirius said—she was wasting away in her memories, a shadow of her former self. He remembered the fierce Molly Weasley fighting at Riddle Manor, cutting down anyone who stood in her way, desperate to end the war.

'I wanted to ask you something, Molly,' he said quietly, her gaze returning to his. He gulped the last of his tea nervously. 'I'm sorry to ask but I wanted to give you the option.' Harry explained the Foundation, much the same he did to Mrs Piddle but far more nervously. He had to stop after every sentence to lick his dry lips. When he was finished, Molly didn't move apart from her eyes returning to the window once again.

She pursed her lips. 'You want me to… organise this charity.'

'Yes. I know that, well, you helped the Order with a lot of things and I suppose running this place was quite a task,' Harry smiled, waving at the kitchen, vegetables slowly being chopped by floating knives.

Molly remained silent.

Harry tried one more time, vowing to leave her be after this attempt. 'Your kindness was the most important factor. We just want to help people Molly.'

He waited for a long moment before she turned back to him, her expression torn. 'Which one?' she asked.

'Pardon?'

'Which one of them was it? I'm guessing it was Bill.'

Harry couldn't conceal the truth from his expression but it mattered little anyway. He didn't want to lie.

She sighed. 'It's fine Harry. Bill's been encouraging me to talk to you as well.'

Harry cleared his throat in embarrassment. 'It was actually Sirius who talked to him.'

'Why am I not surprised?' Molly said, amusement colouring her voice before her expression became morose once again. 'I'm sorry.'

Harry startled. 'What – what for?'

'At your party…' She stopped, taking several deep breaths. 'Being back at that place just brought all those memories back – never knowing if any one of us would still be alive tomorrow.' Her eyes welled up and this time Harry was prepared, conjuring a handkerchief for Molly to dab her eyes.

'Well, I wasn't in the best frame of mind. I just want you to know I understand. Arthur fought every day of his life for this, making goodness knows how many enemies,' she said with a sad smile. Harry returned it, feeling a little better about coming over to the Burrow. She stood up, shuffling around the table. She plucked a picture from the cabinet along the kitchen wall, placing it in front of Harry, foremost in the frame a bunch of redheads jostling in the shadow of the Burrow. A lump hardened in Harry's throat—it was the same photo Mr Weasley had proudly shown him what felt like a lifetime ago.

'We fought to make a better world for our family. You made my children safe. I'll never be able to repay you for that.'

Harry interrupted in panic. 'Molly, I don't want –'

'Let me finish,' she said strongly, cutting over the top of him. She drew in a deep breath. 'My babies are all grown up. And as much as I may wish to keep them safe forever, I know that none will be content to stay out of danger. They have too much of their father in them,' she said with a watery but proud smile.

'Mrs Weasley…'

'I want to help Harry.'

Harry could almost feel the 'no' rise to the tip of his tongue but before he said it, he found himself looking into her eyes—there wasn't a storm of grief and pain and listlessness there anymore. Instead, determination lit them. He looked at her properly and noticed she was sitting straighter, purpose inflating her stature. There was still grief there but it was mingled with more life than she had possessed since Harry had come back. So, instead of saying no, Harry said, 'I'm really glad it's you, Mrs Weasley.'

She smiled, somehow filled with joy and sadness at the same time. 'It's Molly, dear.'

* * *

 **8.53am, 17** **th** **January 2001**

 _ **Atrium, Ministry of Magic, London**_

Sirius whistled as he swept through the crowded atrium, waving to the double-taking ministry workers. If he wasn't mistaken, reporters would soon swarm to the Ministry once word of his appearance spread. He winked at the tittering witches huddled in the corner of the elevator as the grille rattled open.

'Sirius Black!'

A voice called to Sirius, a pudgy man hustling to slide into the lift, his frame squeezing through in the nick of time.

'Sirius,' the man heaved, slightly out of air.

'Albert Gamp,' Sirius acknowledged, pumping the man's arm in greeting. 'It's a pleasure to see you again,' he said, grimacing inwardly. He barely stopped himself from wiping his now greasy palm on his robe.

'I'd heard you'd taken the Minister up on his offer,' he said loudly. Sirius glanced at the wide-eyed witches. No doubt the news would be all around the Ministry soon.

'Just thought I'd take a lay of the land,' Sirius hedged, returning his gaze to the grille.

'Indeed, indeed,' Gamp huffed, his cheeks tinged pink. 'I hope we'll see you around more?'

'We'll see,' Sirius said, nodding to a disappointed Gamp as the grille rattled open and Sirius swept out, striding down the scarcely populated corridor on Level 1. He arrived at the minister's office, a fumbling secretary taking his coat, before announcing his arrival, his voice shaky. Sirius eyed him in bemusement as he entered the bare office—portraits of former ministers slept in their frames on the wall behind the thick mahogany desk but apart from that, the walls were devoid of decoration, the desk only inhabited by a few stacks of parchment. Selwyn rose from behind it, a jovial smile on his face.

'Sirius! I'm pleased you made it.' He bounced around his desk to pump Sirius' hand a few times.

'Wouldn't miss it,' Sirius grinned, settling himself in a chair he conjured, a slightly flimsy construction.

'How are you and Harry settling in?'

'Excellent. It's like we never left.'

'Good, very good to hear. He was busy today?'

'Visiting with a friend.'

'Well, you let him know he's welcome to drop in anytime.'

'Will do.'

'Now, lets get the business out of the way. I know my Senior Undersecretary broached this with you but I wanted to make a formal offer. Currently, the Auror Office is overstaffed. After the war, the focus was on reinforcements. The result is a bunch of kids who are green. Very green. We need reliable leadership. I'd like an extend an offer to you, and to Harry, for a fast-track to seniority in the Auror Office.'

Sirius had expected something like this—Selwyn wanted Sirius in a position where the public could see him working for the good of the Ministry, thus showing his support for the minister. Additionally, Aurors typically remained in the department unless the Ministry was at war. He was trying to place Sirius where he would get the most advantage while reducing the risk that Sirius would move up the Ministry's ranks.

'I accept.'

Selwyn's eyes widened and his jaw drifted open for a moment before he shook himself from it, sitting up a little straighter. 'That's marvellous, marvellous. I'll send the details down to Robards. You can sign the contract when you begin say, Monday?' Selwyn licked his lips nervously.

'Good.' At once, Sirius was on his feet, a quick wave of his wand vanishing his chair. 'I'm afraid I must be off. I have a lot to do today and I'll need to clear my schedule before next week.'

'Excellent. I hope I'll see you and Harry at our next gala,' Selwyn said, jumping to his feet as well to escort Sirius to the door, waving in his secretary while he talked.

'We look forward to it. Good day Minister,' Sirius said, striding towards the atrium, brushing by the ruffled secretary on his way out. While he'd been uncertain just what the Minister would offer him, he was happy with what had happened. There was no law against Wizengamot members working as an Auror. Soon he would have footholds in both the Ministry and the Wizengamot. No doubt he would be surrounded by Selwyn's supporters in both but it was a bloody good start for very little work.

Selwyn had made a stupid mistake when asking Sirius to join the Aurors—he didn't realise just how talented Sirius was. Sirius wasn't a modest man but he knew he was good—he'd rivalled his cousin during the war. If he had helped Sirius be appointed to nearly any other position, he would have been able to take it away just as quickly. Firing someone of his experience from the already under skilled Auror Office would cause an uproar around the country and Sirius would push that until Selwyn was thrown from office. While it was still a somewhat tenuous position, it would firm once Sirius was fully qualified and had cracked his first case. When he exited the elevator to the atrium, he found something that would solidify it even more.

A pack of reporters were bustling towards him, no doubt alerted by the gawking onlookers as he had entered the Ministry. He smiled. This was going to be good.

'Mr Black! Mr Black!' the leading reporter called, his paper and quill buffeted by the others rushing behind him.

'Yes?' he said, raising an eyebrow.

'Could you tell us… Could you tell us what you were doing at the – the Ministry today,' the reporter gasped, his hair slick with sweat.

'I could yes.' Sirius paused as the stragglers jogged to a stop, the group of reporters fairly vibrating in expectation.

'You're looking at the newest member of the Auror Office,' Sirius grinned.

'Mr Black! What about Harry? Will he be joining as well?'

'Harry is still considering his future. I'm sure when he knows, you all will.'

'Why did you decide to join the Aurors?'

'It wasn't too long ago when a young woman nearly died in front of my eyes. Thanks to my godson she's still breathing. I worry for the next one. I'm going to start by hunting down the bastard who sabotaged her broom. Then the scum who are cutting up and selling muggle body parts. After them, I'll find the monsters who are responsible for the disappearances in Gwynedd. And the whole time, I'll be watching, waiting, my ear to the ground, listening for a whisper, just a whisper, that somebody wants to follow in the Death Eaters footsteps. And I'll be right there, making sure they follow them straight to the grave.'

His rant turned his audience pale—if he'd mentioned Voldemort as well he was sure he might have gotten one or two of them to cry. A ringing silence followed, the atrium seeming to freeze like a river in the depths of winter. Then, like the cracking of ice, the atrium exploded into motion, waves of sound passing over Sirius' grimly smiling face as questions were shouted at him, the flash of the cameras making him clench his jaw. _Harry might be a little mad at me for this one_.


End file.
